


By The Lake

by princesskay



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blowjobs, Bottom!Will, Drama, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Minor Violence, Pining, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Rimming, Romance, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 14:03:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5250872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four months after Will and Hannibal fell to the sea, their domestic life is upset by Will suddenly distancing himself from Hannibal in favor of fixing a broken down motor boat he's discovered on their property. Will ponders his feelings about Hannibal, while Hannibal grows increasingly frustrated and fearful that Will might never let him in again. </p><p>(a.k.a. I wanted to write a little thing about Will having a sexuality crisis and it turned into an angst-filled, dramatic, multi-chapter'ed affair that took me way too long to finish)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crisis

Time, illusionary and swift, rolled past him like a river, washing away four months in the blink of an eye. He held little discourse with the occurrences during those four months, preferring to let the tide take him where it may. He wouldn't have called what he experienced happiness; and even if he had chosen the path of these rapidly unfolding events, control couldn't have formed happiness over a state of mind that plunged him into phantasmagoria. Crisis struck him like a nightmare, rapid and all at once, dropping him in the middle of his self-doubt with little care or gentility.

Will woke one morning to find the sunlight spilling through the windows and the smell of breakfast cooking, just like any other morning. And yet, it was not like any other morning.

He lay twisted up in the sheets, sweaty, his pajama pants clinging to his thighs. He was panting softly, and sticky with musky release. Mornings usually came with a familiar ache between his thighs, but somewhere between staring at the ceiling in the dark, and finally falling into restless sleep, his body had cracked under the pressure.

It wasn't unheard of; it wasn't even uncommon. But Will was struck with a pit of dread in his stomach, his mind clawing for an explanation – an explanation other than the one that hummed and cooked in the kitchen just a wall away.

Throwing back the sheets, Will stumbled to the adjoining bathroom, grateful he didn't have to enter the hall in order to clean away the evidence. He winced as the moisture sluiced against his thighs, abundant and still warm.

Shoving the door closed behind him, he peeled the pants from his legs with trembling hands. He caught his harried glance in the mirror and froze. His reflection stared back at him, eyes wide and dilated, cheeks ruddy with burgeoning shame. Tears rushed to his eyelids, burning and stinging the more he tried to force the emotion back. He pressed the heels of his palms hard against his eyelids, crushing the tears that spilled against his hot cheeks.

_What's happening to me?_

The self-pity came to a gasping halt when a soft rapping came from the door.

“Will?”

Sucking in a breath, Will swiped the lingering tears from his cheeks.

“Are you all right?”

“I'm fine!” Will replied as he rushed to the shower. He cranked the water on hot and let it run for a few seconds before adding, “I'm just getting a shower.”

There was a pause before the reply came slowly, and hardly reassured, “Well, don't loiter. Breakfast is nearly done.”

“I'll be out in ten.”

Before the conversation could continue, Will stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain shut after him. The metal rings supporting the curtain scraped loudly across the rod, clearly announcing that Will had entered the shower and wouldn't be saying anything further. He didn't sigh in relief until a full minute of silence had passed.

He shifted into motion, snatching the bottles from the racks and scrubbed soap into his hair and skin. He shared this house with a man whose keen sense of smell could pick out even the most residual scents; the last thing Will wanted was to come to the breakfast table smelling of unintentional release.

 

~

 

A frown braced itself on Hannibal's brow as he completed breakfast. He reserved space in his head for focus on food preparation, as it was an art to be treasured and perfected; but an even larger space swelled to the forefront. The space inhabited by Will.

There was something quite wrong with him these days. It was subtle and well concealed, and yet Hannibal was fully aware of Will's quivering fears. He smelled it, he sensed it, he could feel it pressing like a stone against his chest. 

Through some miraculous event of Fate and circumstance, they had been plucked from death's bosom. Though the idea of death did not frighten Hannibal, he was pleased to have sidestepped it, considering the results. A life with Will. A life on the run, but a life with Will all the same. He could live with it; he could even enjoy it. His loneliness, which he had denied and evaded for so long, was vanquished. And now, some creeping and malicious, threatened to corrupt the new, comfortable reality he longed to establish.

If Will thought he could conceal it forever, he was terribly mistaken. Despite his misdeeds, Hannibal knew himself to be an expert psychologist. Reading people was his forte; reading Will was his priority.

Hannibal constructed a smooth expression when Will entered the kitchen. He'd dressed for the day in jeans and plaid, but his hair still lay in loose, wet ringlets against his forehead.

“How are you this morning?” Hannibal asked, sliding a plate before Will's place at the table.

“Good, thank you.” Will replied.

He didn't make eye contact, which wasn't unusual for Will – when he was distressed.

“How did you sleep?” Hannibal continued, taking a seat across from Will, “I looked in on you before breakfast.”

Will's eyes widened and his head jerked up. This time, eye contact came swift and hard, his terrified gaze striking Hannibal's gaze with force.

“You did?”

Hannibal's head tilted slightly, trying to sense the source of Will's fear.

“I did.” He said, calmly, “You looked content.”

Will swallowed hard. Grabbing his fork, he dug into his scrambled eggs. Around a mouthful, he groused, “I slept fine.”

Hannibal observed him carefully for a few moments, before deciding to let him eat in peace. He was worked up over something; pressing him now might do more harm than good.

Breakfast finished in silence. Hannibal cleared the table, and put away all the ingredients and utensils he had used for cooking breakfast. When he turned back to the table, Will was gone.

 

~

 

The days yawned on, sunny and languid.

Will tended to spend a better part of his day by the lake, watching the sunlight glitter off the glassy surface, and listen to the birds call back and forth from the trees. It reminded him of Louisiana, fishing with dad, learning how to fix boat motors.

He explored a bit through a woods around the cabin, trying to ignore the fact that he was avoiding Hannibal. He found a small, dilapidated shed on the periphery of their property. It was overgrown by weeds and vines that threatened to pull it down into the mud, but it defied the forces of nature and gravity. When Will leaned against the door, the rusted lock snapped right off and the wood slats buckled under his shoulder.

Sunlight spilled into the tiny shed for perhaps the first time in years. The tiniest of breezes stirred up a cloud of dust and sifted through the air and into his mouth. Holding his arm over his mouth, Will coughed against the dust and waved his hand to clear the air.

The shed appeared to have once been someone's workplace. Dozens of tools hung on a cork board on the opposite wall. Some of them were rusted from exposure to the elements, but a good portion were still in good condition. A bench and sawhorse leaned against one wall, and the other wall was piled with boxes of dismantled parts. A tarp rested over a large form that leaned against the wall.

Will searched the cabin curiously, half-hoping no one wanted any of these things any longer. It didn't appear anyone had stepped foot inside in quite awhile. At last, he grabbed a handful of the tarp and yanked it clear of the long object in the corner. 

A quiet sound of surprise and delight touched his lips as he ran his gaze of the small motor boat. The engine sat on the floor, at the foot of the boat, appearing rusted and useless. Will didn't have to be an expert to realize it wouldn't likely run should he attempt to turn it on.

Will looked up and down the boat, with it's sad, peeling paint, it's two splintered seats, and it's rusted engine, and didn't hesitate any longer.

He spent most of the afternoon hauling the boat out of the shed and back to the lake side, and hiking back to find the tools he needed. The boat was old, the engine in even worse shape; there was a possibility it would never run again. But for the first time since the noise in his head had developed into a wailing siren, he found a quiet place.

 

~

 

It wasn't quite five o'clock, but Hannibal defied any sense of guilt as he poured himself a glass of Reisling. He would have drunk something stronger, but his alcohol selection was not as extensive as it had once been.

He took the wine and a book to the living room and opened the pages to his bookmark. The words spilled across the pages before him, promising escape and adventure; if only his mind could turn from the man just outside the window.

Will was avoiding him; ignoring him. Hannibal had braced himself for this reaction in the days and weeks that followed their miraculous escape from the sea, expecting the worst from Will's battered psyche. It hadn't come. Eventually, he had begun to relax and grow comfortable in their shared living situation.

Four months had passed. Will had been civil,  _warm_ at times. He responded when Hannibal touched him, even if it was only a tiny turn of his cheek against Hannibal's palm. He smiled more easily when they conversed, and instigated dialogue when silence waxed. 

Whatever hope had sprung in Hannibal's heart that his vibrant love may one day be returned had been crushed in a matter of days. He couldn't help but wonder if he had done or said something, even unintentionally, to garner this response from Will. That wondering led his mind down dark, endless paths that twisted increasingly inward and promised no exit from the self-torture.

Hannibal drained wine past his lips, trying to wash away the lump in his throat and noose around his chest. The silence of the house swelled around him, empty and desolate.

To think, he'd convinced himself Will would love him back.

To think, he'd wasted days imagining intimacy and a lifelong partnership.

Loneliness had been better. He'd been quite right to cut himself off from the rest of the world, he zip himself daily into his person suit and present but a shadow of himself to those around him, ensuring that they would never truly see him. Loneliness was so much better than this ache inside his chest, and the pain that threatened to turn the heat of once passionate, surging blood to icy tears in his veins.

Hannibal jolted when he heard an angry shout echo through the woods. Rising from the couch, he pulled the curtain back from the window to see Will pacing back and forth in front of the lake, his hands gripping through his hair. The boat and it's motor, neither of which Hannibal had any idea of their source, lay on the ground, void of life.

Will paused for a moment before throwing a wrench at the ground, and shouting a profanity at the sky.

Hannibal sighed. His heart tugged at him to go out and speak to Will. His mind reminded him that it would probably do no good.

Muttering a curse, Hannibal slipped his shoes on and stepped out onto the front porch. Will didn't turn to notice him as he walked down to the lake.

“I take it your project is not going so well.” Hannibal remarked.

Will spun around in surprise. His expression maintained it's wide-eyed, seething anger for a few seconds before he rearranged it to barely neutral.

“I knew it wouldn't be easy.” Will muttered, swiping his sleeve across his forehead, “I should just haul the whole thing into the lake and forget it.”

“Why are you giving up now?” Hannibal asked.

Will frowned for a moment before waving a hand at the boat, “The motor is completely rusted through, there's parts missing, and I don't know if the boat will even stay afloat any longer. The wood is rotting and I'm sure there's cracks where water could seep in, I just don't see it yet.”

“I've never known you to be a quitter, Will.”

Will chewed at his lip as he observed the boat, “It's a lost cause.”

“I don't think so.”

“What do you know about fixing boat motors?” Will asked, scraping out a mirthless chuckle.

“Nothing.” Hannibal replied, “I simply have faith in it's repairman.”

Will's jaw worked. His eyes slowly departed from the boat to track a wavering path up to Hannibal's face. Silence brewed between them, and for a brief, hopeful second, Hannibal wondered if Will might break down and finally tell him what had gone so wrong between them.

“I guess I should get back on it then.” Will said, after several long moments.

Hannibal dismissed the pang in his chest. It was childish, pathetic even. One thinly veiled conversation about fixing something broken wouldn't pierce Will's armor so easily – not after he had given Will such a detailed tour of his tactics. Maybe Will would never trust him again.

“I'll leave you to it, then.” He demurred.

He walked back to the cabin, to his wine and books. To his solitude. For now, it would have to sustain him.

 

 


	2. Celebration

 

When Will ventured into the nearest town that had a hardware store, he realized he might be expending too much time and effort into fixing the boat. He slunk back to their cabin with the supplies in a paper sack, guilty and frustrated.

The boat had been a lovely diversion at the beginning. It kept his mind off of Hannibal, and off of the overwhelming feelings Will had towards him. Even if fixing the boat wasn't getting anywhere, it kept his demons at bay. As the project progressed, however, he realized it had become a direct link to his struggle. The buffer was diminishing daily. The love he poured into the broken parts and rusted metal turned sour with frustration and pent of emotions.

He left the boat by the lake, and carried his bag of supplies into the cabin. The only light in the living room was a candle burning on the shelf, and the scent of dinner in progress wafted from the kitchen.

Will dropped the bag off in his bedroom, and sank to the edge of the bed. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he let out a heavy sigh, burdened by weary emotion. He felt raw, open; so exhausted from struggling with anger and fighting back tears. He wanted to lie down and sleep for long time, hibernate until these feelings, and Hannibal were gone.

“Will?”

Will's head jerked up. He didn't have time to wipe the moisture from his eyes before Hannibal's gaze took in his ragged demeanor.

“Sorry, what?” Will asked, wiping hurriedly at his cheek.

“You look … distressed.” Hannibal said, his brow furrowing.

For the first time in several days, Will took a moment to really look at Hannibal. Now, he saw the dark, hollow gaze, the dark smudge of sleeplessness beneath his eyes, the sad, downward curve of his lips. His hair was uncombed, and there were wrinkles in his shirt. 

“So do you.” Will whispered.

Hannibal blinked, speechless for a few moments.

“Sleep hasn't come easily.” He replied, at last, “Are you struggling with the same affliction?”

“I think I'm putting too much concern into the damn boat.” Will replied, struggling to lighten the conversation with a bark of a laugh.

“Like I said, you're not a quitter.” Hannibal said.

“I went to the hardware store to buy parts for it.” Will said, motioning to the paper bag, “I hope you don't mind me putting money into it.”

“Of course not. I can see that it's important to you.”

“Yeah, and maybe it's just a waste of time.” Will sighed, scraping a hand through his hair.

“Nothing we enjoy or care about is a waste of our time.” Hannibal replied, taking a few steps across the room. He paused a few feet in front of Will, his hands shifting restlessly into his pockets.

Will rose from the bed, his stomach fluttering anxiously. The walls of the room seemed to close around him, trapping him with Hannibal in all the ways he had been avoiding for weeks now. He broke into motion, in order to step around Hannibal and escape the room; but Hannibal's hand caught onto his wrist, pulling him to a stop.

“Aren't you hungry?” Hannibal asked, “I've made dinner.”

Will paused, his gaze caught up in Hannibal's dark, searching eyes. He felt like a fly trapped in a spider's web, pinned down and helpless; ready to be devoured.

“I … yeah ...” He managed, “I'll go get it.”

He stepped toward the door again, but this time Hannibal moved with him, bodily blocking the escape.

“Will.” He whispered.

The single syllable was punctuated by a sigh and a plea, painful emotion pressed into his name. Will had never seen Hannibal submit to emotion; he had never seen any indication that Hannibal was moved by Will's running away from him. Perhaps it was the dim lighting, the press of emotion in Will's own chest, the reflection of suppressed desire glinting from Will's eyes. Maybe it wasn't real at all; because this side of Hannibal wasn't real. It didn't show itself; it wasn't vulnerable. It didn't plead.

Will yanked his arm free of Hannibal's grip and stepped swiftly around him. He marched down the hall and into the kitchen, snatching a plate and cup from the cabinet. He filled his plate from the dishes on the counter and took the entire meal back down the hallway and through the living room.

“Where are you going?” Hannibal asked, his voice trailing behind Will.

“Outside.”

Will shoved past the front door and jogged down the steps until he hit the grass at a fast clip. He escaped to the boat, where he sat on one of the narrow seats and watched the sun go down above the water while he devoured Hannibal's fancy cooking in the raw exposure of the outdoors.

 

~

 

Summer was fading fast, stealing daylight and the verdant colors of the forest. When the sun came down at night, the temperatures sank faster and faster, driving Will indoors earlier. A swift, cool breeze, gray skies, and leaves of red, orange, and yellow heralded the arrival of fall.

The boat was yet to be fixed.

Hannibal was vigilant of any change in Will's behavior, despite the logical part of his brain that told him to give up already. A month of silence and rejection had passed, and another was about to close on the tattered remains of their once blossoming bond.

Hannibal was not a quitter, either, however, and he was willing to continue trying. They would be living together for the foreseeable future, and to him, that meant it had to be at least bearable. Will didn't make it easy. Hannibal's resolve and anger were tested daily, but he was a grown man, a strong, capable, independent man who had survived more than most people could imagine. He refused to be deteriorated by Will's forts, by his silence, and his rejections. 

Will may not have remembered, but it was his birthday. Hannibal remembered these types of things. Though birthdays had never held more significance to him than the passage of another year, he knew it was traditionally a day of celebration.

Without making any remark of it to Will, he planned a more elaborate dinner and dessert for the day. It was all he knew how to give; it was all he was willing to give for someone who had all but thrown his heart into the dirt and stomped the broken shards to dust.

Predictably, Will threw himself into fixing the boat, giving little heed to Hannibal's movements around the cabin. If he remembered it was his birthday, he didn't seem to care.

Hannibal took inventory of all the ingredients and supplies his dinner required half a dozen times before he began preparation. He threw himself wholly into cooking, pressing every bit of his frustration and desire into the meal, wondering if Will would taste what he had done – taken a heart that would have molded willingly to his touch, and turned it to ice and stone.

It was a little past seven when Hannibal heard the front door open and close. His ears tracked the sound of Will moving through the cabin, first into the bathroom, then into the bedroom, and at last, the hallway.

“Is there a special occasion?”

Hannibal glanced over his shoulder to see Will lingered by the door.

“It's your birthday.” He replied.

Will frowned for a moment before shaking his head, “It is … I'd completely forgotten.”

He stepped farther into the kitchen, glancing over the appetizers and glasses of wine, the candles lit in the center of the table, and the main course that Hannibal was putting the final touches to.

“This is all for me?”

“Yes.” Hannibal said, plucking the carving knife from the drawer, “Another year on this earth is something to be thankful for, don't you agree?”

“Some would say that's up for debate.” Will murmured.

“I don't want this to remind you of all the things you don't have anymore.” Hannibal said, paused from his carving to gaze at Will, “I want to remind you of the future.”

“What future is that?” Will asked, smiling ruefully.

“Whichever one it is that you choose.” Hannibal replied, extending a full plate to Will, “If age symbolizes one thing, it's the constant evolution of what we want, and how much control we have over getting it.”

Will took the plate, his eyes focusing on the steaming food before him. For a moment, Hannibal thought he might remark on what he wanted; instead, he took the plate to the table and sat down in the chair he had not inhabited for the past few weeks.

Hannibal let out a careful sigh of relief. Taking his own plate from the counter, he joined Will at the table.

“I'm afraid I don't have a present to offer you.” He said, as he took a bite of seasoned meat, “You seem content with your boat.”

“It's okay.” Will replied, barely looking up from his plate, “I've gone most of my life without birthday presents … or a meal like this for that matter.”

Hannibal supposed that was all the 'thank you' he would get.

He brought his wineglass to his mouth and took a long, slow sip to cool the fire in his chest. He could think of dozens of remarks to make, none of them polite or graceful. Mostly, he didn't want to break first; if he did break, Will might never come back to him.

Silence lengthened, interrupted only by the scrape and clink of silverware. They ate as if they were attending a funeral dinner instead of a birthday party; and indeed, Hannibal silently mourned the failure. 

Will scraped his plate clean, and sat back in the chair.

“It was good.” He remarked.

“I'm glad you enjoyed it. Would you like dessert?” Hannibal asked as he cleared the dinner plates from the table.

“Sure.”

Hannibal adjusted his grip on his self-control as he portioned out dessert. Frustration grew like a weed in his chest, choking out the good intentions and the fledgling hope, and curling up around his throat like a noose. Storm clouds hung behind his eyes, dim and threatening deluge and lightning. He was holding on by a thread.

Putting on an amiable expression, he brought the dessert back to the table and took his seat opposite Will. The dim light of the candle flickered across Will's taut expression, shadows hiding the nuances and glimpses of light behind his eyes. For the first time in awhile, Hannibal had trouble reading him.

Will took a bite of cheesecake into his mouth, and chewed determinedly for several moments. Perhaps he felt Hannibal's gaze, maybe he really could taste what he had done. His chewing slowed, and he swallowed hard to clear it past his throat.

“Why are you doing this?” His voice shattered the silence between them.

Hannibal clenched his jaw against a hasty response. He opted for, “I told you. For your birthday. You have no one else to celebrate it with so I-”

“No, I mean why?” Will interrupted, his voice growing louder as he slammed his fork down on the table, “Why do you even care anymore?”

“Will-”  
“Please, spare me the bullshit answers and metaphors.” Will bit off, rising from the table. His chair scraped back loudly as he came to full height, “Don't tell me you still care after what I've done to you.”

“Of course I care.” Hannibal whispered, his throat growing thick.

“I have cut you off.” Will said, each word sharp and clipped, “Some days, I don't even look at you. What do you think that means? That I'm playing hard to get?”

Hannibal lifted his chin, refusing to break eye contact despite the rapidly fraying and splitting bonds of his control.

“For all points and purposes, I hate you.” Will said, his voice growing quieter but no less venomous, “We're just existing in the same space, going through the motions, and here you are, pretending like you still care what happens to me and my feelings. Whether I get a fucking birthday party or not? Why don't you hate me too?”

Hannibal's whole body stiffened, a cold shiver that unfurled through his limbs and into his chest, furrowing into his heart and brain. Beneath the table, his hands curled into trembling fists against his knees, threatening and itching to do irreparable damage.

“Why don't you hate me, Hannibal?” Will shouted, lunging forward to stare into Hannibal's stony gaze, “Why don't you just hurt me? Hmm? I know you want to. It's a part of your nature to be cruel and destructive. It's in you to punish me for what I'm doing. What did I ever do to deserve your kindness? I've done nothing, Hannibal. Nothing. All I've ever done is hurt you, and reject you. So why don't you just take it out on me? Right here. Just like before.”

“I won't do that, Will.” Hannibal whispered, roughly.

He didn't move from the chair. His hands trembled against his knees, and his chest ached with the burn of anger. But he didn't move. He wouldn't.

“Come on!” Will shouted, throwing his hands into the air, “You could do whatever you wanted with me, and no one would know or care!”

“I don't want to hurt you.”

“Don't fucking lie!” Will screaming, whirling around to lean into Hannibal's space, “You hate me, don't you? You hate me for spending every day out there, working on the stupid, goddamn boat, and you hate me for never speaking to you, for never  _loving_ you.” 

“That's your choice.” Hannibal whispered, his voice thin and shaking.

“My choice that's tearing you to pieces.” Will hissed, stabbing his finger into Hannibal's chest, “I know what you can do, Hannibal, so let's not sit here and pretend that I've domesticated you. You're a monster, and you always will be. No matter how hard you to try to pretend like we're living a fairy tale out here in this cabin, you will always want to rip me apart – and I'm giving you the perfect excuse.”

Silence settled, thick and weighted between them. Will's heavy breaths blasted against Hannibal's cheeks, fanning the fire that stirred like a sleeping dragon beneath his breastbone. Hannibal dared to lift his eyes, to gaze into the icy blue that pierced his soul, the urged him to violence – horrible, unforgivable violence.

“Just touch me.” Will whispered, his voice sour and thick. He grabbed onto Hannibal's wrist, forcing his hand above the shield of the table and to the warmth of Will's heaving chest, “Feel me break under your fist and relish in my blood flowing through your fingers. I know it's what you want.”

“No, Will.” Hannibal managed, forcing the words past clenched teeth.

Will uttered a sound of disgust and released Hannibal's wrist with a jerk.

“I knew it.” He sneered, taking a step back, “Take away your knives and your tools, take away your kitchen and your fancy clothes and trinkets – you're just a sad little boy who wants to be loved by anyone. Angry because no amount of killing, and cooking, and eating can bring back his precious little sister.”

Silence again.

The weight of anger and suggestion, heavy, pulsing with dull need.

And suddenly the ebb of anger flowing from Will lips and chest met with a brick wall of another rage entirely.

Hannibal surged from his chair, his curled fist rising from it's resting place on his knee to arch back behind his head. It came down like a hammer, slamming into Will's jaw so hard that Will's body flung like a rag doll back against the opposite wall. He sank to the ground, lips bubbling with blood and a maddening affirmation. Hannibal charged across the room, shoving the table out of his path and flinging plates and a wineglass from it's surface. The fine china and glass shattered as he lunged on Will's languishing body, straddling narrow hips and fitting the broad expanse of his hands around Will's pale, slender throat.

“I've given you everything.” He whispered, through clenched teeth and the rush of tears against his eyelids, “Every sacrifice I've made has been for you.”

Will choked out something indiscernible, lips producing a tiny stream of blood down his chin. Hannibal tightened his grip, watching in satisfaction as the blood cut off under Will's jaw, turning his face deep red and forcing water from his eyelids.

“I don't hate you, Will. I never hated you.” He whispered, “Hatred is too simple, too easy. If I hated you, I could kill you, I could prepare you, and I would enjoy it like a last supper. But I've found my equal in you, Will.”

Will's choked, his hands clawing desperately at Hannibal's hands. The useless attempt did little more than urge Hannibal to squeeze harder, cutting off air supply and the tiny, helpless moans.

“What I feel for you is more than you could ever understand.” Hannibal murmured, “If all the poets of ages past and into the future converged to create the finest word, the finest phrase of love and dedication, they couldn't begin to touch what you have done to me. Their words would fall banal and vapid, and they would shrink to their graves before the brilliance of our union.”

Will wheezed quietly, his lashes beating out a desperate, pleading rhythm. His hands batted softly at Hannibal's hands and wrists, weak and helpless. His cheeks burned red, lips bloody and wet with saliva. His eyes dimmed, so close to giving up.

“If hatred is all you want from me, you never deserved my love.”

The words slipped past his lips, a long held secret breaching the air. It had supported him, bolstered him despite his sadness and yearning. And now that it left it's gilded cage inside his chest, he lost all strength to continue. 

His hands slipped from Will's throat and collapsed to the tile, halfway draped across Will's leg. Will gasped in a breath, his hands fluttered to his throat, his lungs wheezing for a proper lungful of oxygen. Harsh, painful coughing followed, curling his body forward and wracking his shoulders for long moments.

When the coughing finally subsided, Will sank back against the wall, panting softly. They were quiet and immobile for a stretch of endless seconds before Will reached over to carefully touch the back of Hannibal's head.

Hannibal sprang into motion, swatting Will's hand away and rising suddenly from the floor.

“Go to your boat, if you want to.” He whispered, scraping back his hair from his forehead, “But don't ask anything of me again.”

He left the kitchen, and for once in his life, did not care what should happen to the mess and the leftovers.

 

 


	3. Apology

Will did not go to his boat. In fact, he did not venture beyond the cabin for several days. He huddled in his bed, avoiding Hannibal when he could, and only going out to mix lemon juice and honey in a glass for his throat. His throat burned with inflammation, and he could hardly speak except for hoarse whispers and pathetic wheezing. Only time would tell how long it would take before he could speak again.

He played the fight over and over again in his head, trying to locate the exact moment when he'd lost control of his emotions. He hadn't meant to start yelling; he had certainly never meant to bring Mischa into it. His mistake was glaring and painful, and he wondered if Hannibal would ever forgive him.

His desire was momentarily gone, but he could not be thankful; in it's place rested the weight of regret. He wished he could go back and stop himself. He wished he would have been truthful instead of angry.

He endured a week of torturous bed rest, day and night wrestling with his demons and his guilt. At last, as an afternoon dawned on the eighth day, Will threw back the covers and marched out of the bedroom.

Hannibal was at his drawing table in the living room, sketching fiercely at the paper with sharpened graphite. He looked up sharply when Will entered, but quickly pinned his eyes back to his drawing.

“Can I help you, Will?”

Will took a faltering step forward, before thinking better of getting within arms length of Hannibal, much less touching him.

“I ...” His voice came out broken and hoarse. It hurt his throat to speak, but he pushed on, “I'm sorry.”

Hannibal's hand paused from sketching. It was a few moments before he set the pencil down, and rose from his chair.

“For what?” He asked, turning an icy gaze to Will, “For cutting me off? For screaming at me, which was rather rude … or perhaps, for insulting the loss of my sister and forcing me to hurt you?”

Will pressed a hand to his burning throat, “For all of it.”

Hannibal assessed him with a cool, detached gaze for several moments before speaking again, “You sound terrible, Will. I hope you've taken medication.”

“I have.” Will whispered.

Silence.

Will felt the pressure of emotion in the back of his throat, and clenched his jaw against the urge to break down at Hannibal's feet. 

“What have you come out here for?” Hannibal asked, taking a step closer, “Are you asking for forgiveness, Will? … I told you not to ask me for anything.”

“Even if you won't accept my apology, it's still there.” Will replied. He ducked his head and swallowed against his swollen, burning throat, “I guess that's all I had to say.”

He turned and walked back to the bedroom, allowing his eyes to burn with emotion. Pushing the door shut behind him, he sank to the floor against it and pressed his hands to his face.

Somewhere between avoiding his need for Hannibal and finding himself on the kitchen floor, choking under Hannibal's grip, he'd lost all sense and direction of what he was fighting.

For the past two months he had run himself ragged and sleepless, denying what his heart had always known, and what Hannibal had admitted he, too, felt. Love. And once he had gotten past that, he'd found himself struggling with something far more basic, but perhaps harder to accept. Need. Desire. The most prevalent of human drives – but one that Will had spent half his life avoiding. He had never wanted intimacy with someone more; and he had never hated the concept and his own glaring needs as much as he did now.

And yet, after all his fighting and struggling and starving himself of Hannibal's willing touch, he'd accomplished little more than driving himself over the edge of that need. There was a void in his chest now that went deeper than ever before. Beyond that yawning gap, Hannibal turned his back and began to walk away. Will couldn't seem to build a bridge fast enough to follow him, stop him from disappearing before it was too late.

As the tears began to wrench themselves from Will's chest, he lurched away from the door and threw himself into his bed. Pulling his covers over himself, he hid in the warm cocoon of blankets and pillows until the emotion had expended itself from his body and he was spent and weak.

When he moved again, pulling the covers from his head, he saw that the sky overhead was turning to dusk. He could hear Hannibal prowling about that cabin, and even that was almost too much for him to bear.

Pushing himself up onto his elbow, he rummaged through the drawer of his nightstand until his fingers closed around the small device. He'd never listened to a single song on the iPod that Hannibal had gifted to him a week after their arrival here. “Music is medicine for the soul, like therapy for the mind.” Hannibal had said, as Will tore open the wrapping, “If you ever feel overwhelmed here, I suggest you listen to it.”

Will hadn't taken the suggestion, no matter how overwhelmed he'd felt in the past two months; but with all his denial behind him, he decided listening to it now wouldn't change a goddamn thing.

He pressed the earbuds into place and clicked the iPod on. He turned it on shuffle, hardly caring what the track list looked like. He wasn't surprised to hear the crisp, flowing notes of something classical and orchestral pour into his ears. Closing his eyes, he clutched the iPod to his chest and listened until the tightness in his chest wasn't so painful.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before a trembling, but determined presence forced him to open his eyes.

The room was dark now, the curtains pulled across the windows to block out even the light of the moon. The little illumination came from the partially open door, where a familiar figure lingered.

Will blinked, adjusting his eyes to the dark as quickly as he could. Pushing up onto his elbows, he watched the silhouetted figure, wondering if he should attempt to speak again.

Suddenly, Hannibal broke away from the doorway and crossed the room to the bed. Even in the dark, Will could make out his eyes, glimmering with sadness. Will pulled the earbuds out, letting silence take place of the symphony.

“I know I told you not to ask me for anything.” Hannibal said, his voice quiet and raw, “But, after much thought and consideration, I've accepted your apology.”

Will sat up fully, his heart suddenly pounding.

“What changed your mind?”

Hannibal slid onto the bed, his fingers seeking out across the sheets to find Will's. He ducked his head, broad shoulders hunching tight as he bent over Will's hand, snared between his own.

“I've defied psychoanalysis among my peers and colleagues, but no one has ever understood me as well as you do. You were right.” He whispered, uttering a short, harsh laugh, “I am a monster. I relish that part of myself because I know no one in this world can touch me, and I know it will never change. I've asked things of you that would have broken a normal human being, but when I saw myself shining through your eyes, I knew you could take everything I put on you.”

Will shifted closer, his hand reaching through the dark to lace through the hair at Hannibal's nape.

“You weren't wrong.” He whispered.

Hannibal slowly lifted his head, his gaze locking onto Will's, “You would walk through fire and pretend to not be burned, Will. The real question now is, are you prepared – are you willing – to walk through the fire … for me?”

The silence was stifling for a few brief moments. Will's lungs were shriveled, breathless; his voice uttering the tiniest of affirmations, “Yes.”

“You haven't seen everything I can do. Perhaps you arrive at the gates of hell and realize, you were brought there under false pretenses,” Hannibal replied, his voice trembling with genuine apprehension.

“I don't have to know everything.” Will murmured, drawing Hannibal's face closer to his, “I can feel them, and … for once, they don't scare me.”

Hannibal's eyes slipped shut briefly. When Will slid his hand down to touch Hannibal's cheek, his palm encountered hot moisture. He drew in a shuddering breath as he drew his thumb through the tracks of tears, wondering briefly at what break in the universe had afforded him a second chance.

“Lie down with me.” He murmured, sinking back against the pillow.

Hannibal followed him to the mattress, his body pressing warm and solid against Will's. Will turned to his side, letting himself be cradled against Hannibal's chest, his limbs wrapped up in a swallowing embrace. It was pure and desperate, their hands grasping to close that void that stretched abysmal between them. It was the first time in a long time Will had felt a measure of safety.

“I was afraid you wouldn't come back.” Hannibal murmured, voice raspy against Will's ear, “I am so familiar with how you can collapse in upon yourself, and how there are some paths through the mind and heart that don't lead to a light at the end of the tunnel.”

“I think, somehow, I'm always bound to come back to you.” Will said.

His gaze broke from the ceiling to peek over his shoulder. Hannibal's chin rested against the back of his neck, his nostrils blowing warm, leisurely breaths into Will's curls. The dark recesses of his eyes pulled Will in as if magnetized, taking him deeper and deeper into the the cradle of an adoring gaze. It felt like the way one might hold an injured baby bird, taking care not to crush the delicate wings in an overeager grasp.

Hannibal tilted his head forward, slowly bringing his mouth down against Will's neck. It was wasn't a kiss, barely even a brush of skin against skin, but it spilled warmth through Will's chest like tea on a chilly evening. He turned against it, his skin suddenly keenly aware of the clothing between them and the heat that radiated from Hannibal's body.

Will watched in fascination as Hannibal's lips parted and took another dive against his neck. The warm, moist pressure slid just below his earlobe, awakening sensation and nerve-endings that hadn't been stirred in a long time. Will arched back against him, his lips falling open to utter a quiet moan. Hannibal cinched an arm tighter around him, and slid the other hand up Will's chest to clasp his jaw. He dragged Will's chin upward, exposing his neck to the searching smear of his lips. Saliva painted a wet trail behind his lips, setting skin on fire and devastating Will's final barriers.

Hannibal's mouth broke away just as Will began to squirm.

“I've thought of doing that for so long.” He murmured, breathing hot against Will's ear.

Will gasped in a breath as Hannibal pulled him onto his back. Hannibal's weight shifted halfway on top of him, both hands reaching up to grasp Will's cheeks. The fire in Hannibal's eyes brewed desire, two looking glasses that reflected blatant need that Will had never seen bared in it's entirety.

“Will,” Hannibal groaned, his voice whispered and husky.

He ducked his head, pressing his forehead against Will's and blowing out a deep, shaking breath. The air was still hot against Will's cheeks as he tilted his head down, connecting their mouths. Will stiffened, breath leaving his lungs, willpower leaving his limbs. Hannibal's lips pressed velvet soft and moist against Will's, a tender caress that seemed so wildly disproportionate to the destruction Will knew these hands and mouth could wreak.

He bucked away, sucking a break into his aching lungs. Their mouths jarred apart, and Will scrambled back against the headboard, grasping at the sheets to ground himself.

Hannibal knelt at his feet, his eyes tracking Will's every movement.

“Your mind beats against it, but your heart yearns to obey.” He murmured, touching Will's ankle with a brush of his fingertips, “Your body tells a different story, even as your mind constructs it's forts against me. How long will it be before your the battle between the fears haunting your mind and the needs haunting your body wears you to the breaking point?”

“How do I know what I'm feeling?” Will demanded, scraping a hand through his hair, “How can I trust it to be my own feelings?”

“You're afraid you're simply empathizing with my desires?” Hannibal asked, his head tilting to the side as if it had never occurred to him.

“It wouldn't be the first time I confused someone else's urges with my own.” Will said, breaking his gaze from Hannibal's.

“If you do not trust yourself,” Hannibal said, reaching out to touch Will's chin, “Then trust me.”

Will slowly lifted his gaze back to Hannibal's, resisting the warm safety it provided, “Trust you?” He asked, his mouth curving ruefully, “Like I trusted you to help me get better? How do I know you aren't playing with me now?”

“Will, I care about you more than anyone else in this world.” Hannibal replied, grabbing onto Will's hand and squeezing it tightly, “I know you, perhaps better than anyone, and I know what you are feeling now is not your imagination, or a manifestation of my needs and desires. They are your own, independent of mine, and had I not been blinded by my anger at you, I might have realized they were what drove you away from me in the beginning.”

Will threw his legs over the side of the bed and rose to his feet, hoping that some distance between them might put to ease the throbbing inside him.

“I can't articulate how I feel about this.” He said, wrapping his arms around his middle, “After everything we've gone through, and everything we've done to each other … I thought I'd put it all to rest, but this is … different.”

“You can accept domesticity, but not intimacy?”

“I can accept we're stuck together.” Will replied, sharply, “I can accept that I sealed that fate when I threw us over the cliff. What I can't accept that it's been some twisted lover's tale all along. We're not lovers, Hannibal. This isn't a fairy tale where we live happily ever after. You're not some fucking prince in shining armor. You're the dragon guarding the tower.”

He rushed from the room, unable to bear the look of collapsing disappointment in Hannibal's eyes. He burst into the hallway, squinting hard as light filtered into his eyes for the first time in several hours.

He had stumbled halfway to the front door when he heard the thud of footsteps behind him. He cast a glance over his shoulder to see Hannibal following after him, shoulders hunched, head down like a charging bull.

Losing his balance, Will turned and fell against the front door. Hannibal reached him just as his back struck the door, his hands bracing on either side of Will's body.

“I asked you to walk through the fire, and your response was a resounding 'yes', Will. You said yes to me.” Hannibal hissed, his breath hot against Will's cheeks, “And yet, you forget in your self-pitying haste, that I, too, have passed through the fire on coals of your making.”

“What fire was that?” Will whispered, trembling through his whole body.

“What fire? How easily you forget.” Hannibal whispered, his voice softening a bit, “I spent three years, trapped in a glass cage, like some wild animal in a zoo, an insect under the microscope, nourishing myself with thoughts of our reunion. Three years is quite a long time to analyze and consider the actions of someone you cannot even touch. It might have driven someone else insane, but I was patient and determined. I was willing to walk through that fire for you, Will. No one else is deserving of my loyalty – or so I was persuaded. But, when you finally arrived, my loyalty was rewarded with hatred and disgust. Do I disgust you, Will? Does my love disgust you?”

“No.” Will whispered, shrinking against the door, “No, I-”

The words failed on his lips as Hannibal stared into him, his eyes like ink drops, black and bottomless.

“If you can't stand to look at me, perhaps it is time to go our separate ways.” Hannibal said, drawing back.

He was resigned now, his anger crushed back into it's bottle. He stood there in front of Will, his hands curled into fists at his sides, his broad shoulders slumping. He seemed smaller and weaker now than ever before, and the pain of it struck Will's heart like an arrow.

“I won't keep you here against your will.” Hannibal whispered, “I won't put you in a cage until your fire and beauty withers and dies. Go ...”

Will struggled to find his footing on weak limbs and failing heart, “What?”

“Go.” Hannibal murmured, lifting mournful eyes to Will's wide, blinking gaze, “It seems all my efforts have been in vain. I cannot predict you, change you, or influence your outcome. I knew this, and yet I tried. In my failure, I see I must let you go now. Go, Will. I won't stop you. I won't follow you.”

Will swallowed against the knot growing in his throat. Weighted silence settled on them, growing to a dull roar in Will's ears. He was keenly aware of the sweat trickling down the back of his neck, the taut grip of all of his muscles clenched against the fear of history repeating itself.

“No.” The word scraped past his lips in a whimper.

Hannibal's eyes snapped to Will's. His nostrils flared, and his lip curled. Will wondered if Hannibal might strike him again; and if did, whether Will would even expend the effort to duck.

“No, I won't go.” He said, louder this time despite the hoarse clench of his throat.

Hannibal's eyes widened slightly, shocked and perhaps confused by Will's defiance,“The line has been drawn, Will.” Hannibal said, at last, “Decide which side you're standing on.”

Will pushed away from the door, reminding himself to be strong.

“Your world is colored in extremes, Hannibal.” He said, bolstering his gaze to Hannibal's, “I can either scream my affirmation to the sky, or build a wall between us in rejection. You're blind to the shades of gray that I can't force myself to look away from.”

Hannibal's brow furrowed, his flint-like exterior cracking a bit.

“When I told you I was willing to walk through the fire, I meant it. And when I told you I couldn't accept your intimacy, I still meant it.” Will sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face, “I'm tired of fighting you, and I know that somehow we're conjoined, but … for Christ's sakes, allow me a moment of weakness; _of fear._ ”

Hannibal blinked, but his lips remained mute as Will ducked his head and stumbled past him. He turned sharply, raising a hand to Will's departing back. His fingers curled around empty air.

 

~

 

The cabin was stifling in silence again.

Hannibal popped the cork on a bottle of scotch and splashed a generous shot into a glass. He threw it back, wincing as the alcohol burned a path down his throat and into his chest.

After thinking that had made so much progress, they were back to moot, Will hiding behind the bedroom door, Hannibal standing in the kitchen trying to wash away his sorrows in drink. For all the scotch he had, he couldn't wash away the words Will had planted in his brain.

Shades of gray, and bouts of fear.

Perhaps he had broadened the scale too far, seeing only in large pictures and final events – missing the most simple and abundant of humans drives. Fear, a beast Will Graham had been driven and haunted by most of his life. It was hard to admit, but Hannibal's desires had blinded his more realistic, professional view of the situation and truths about Will that he had always known, the most apparent and detrimental of which was that Will was an island unto himself. No one passed the moat without his acknowledgment and permission. No one touched him or came to know him without him first lowering his barriers. There was no buffer, no person suit, between himself and the rest of the world. Where Hannibal could allow a person in a degree at a time, never allowing them to pierce the veil beyond which his true self lay, Will was exposed, raw, and helpless should someone find even a small crack in his armor. In light of that realization, it was understandable why he should be afraid.

He had never been touched the way Hannibal wished to touch him. Each caress would be like fire. Penetration like a sword. If Hannibal wanted Will, he would have to do is slowly and gently, and not all at once.

Hannibal tossed back a second shot, and set the glass firmly on the counter. The alcohol loosened the grip of frustration his chest. Good. The situation required a gentle touch, free of violent emotion.

Hannibal paced down the hall to the bedroom door. He hesitated there for a few moments, his heart hammering in his chest, before he rapped his knuckles against the door.

There was no response for several moments, before his straining ears made out a muffled, “Come in.”

Drawing a in a slow breath, he twisted the door handle and entered the room. It was dark and stuffy inside. His eyes barely made out Will's figure, twisted up in the bed sheets. He had the earphones in again, the volume up just high enough for Hannibal to make out a few notes of “Aese's Death,” by Edward Grieg.

When Will did not acknowledge him, Hannibal crossed the room at a careful pace, trying to make out Will's face in the dark. He sat down on the edge of the bed, watching for some time as Will gazed firmly at the ceiling. At last, he laid down against the warm sheets and joined Will in staring at the sky.

They laid there for awhile, silent and disconnected. Hannibal began to truly wonder if Will had finally strayed beyond his reach. He could hardly bear the thought.

Suddenly, Will took one of the ear buds out and offered it to him. He barely glanced over, but Hannibal was quick to notice the shy apology in his eyes. Hannibal took the tiny earphone and pressed it to his ear, smiling as the symphony filled his head. Will shifted a bit closer and reached out his hand. This time, Hannibal's fingers closed around warm skin.

 

 


	4. Succumb

Will's eyes blinked open to the morning sunlight. The bed sheets wound around him, holding him in a warm cocoon that he was loathe to escape from. When he shifted his head, he felt the prod of the earphone still against his ear. The music had stopped hours ago, somewhere between the touch of hands and lulling sleep.

Will turned his head sharply as the events of the night before spilled past the cobwebs of sleep and dreams. He plunged back into reality, coming face to face with Hannibal's slumbering expression. Will drew in a calming breath as he pushed himself up onto his elbows.

His surprise eased as he gazed down at Hannibal's figure, limp in a dreamworld. Asleep, he seemed so harmless, his skin glowing warmly in morning sunlight, his hands relaxed in front of his chest in a prayerful position.

Will let himself slip back down against the sheets. Releasing a low sigh, he scrubbed his hands over his face to dispel the last of sleep and shock at waking up in the same bed with Hannibal. It wasn't how he'd imagined waking up with Hannibal would be; strangely enough, he was content to stay under the same sheets, sharing body warmth.

Will licked his lips slowly and cast a gaze at Hannibal's lax expression. He felt as if he were gazing at a sleeping dragon, noticing the beauty that was so often masked by the burst of angry flame. The plush set of lips, the fan of lashes across cheeks, the tiny worry lines around his eyes, and the stray locks of hair that glinted silver in the brilliant light of day all suggested a normal, sane man behind those closed eyes, an image Will had long abandoned in any regard to Hannibal. And yet, he was struck by the unique beauty of the face that had haunted his dreams, the resting power in long, graceful hands which had once sought to push him over the edge.

Will slipped a hand under the sheets, aghast to feel the rigid head of his cock pushing against his pajama pants. Suppressing a moan, he shoved the erection down, hoping to force away the eager, throbbing need before Hannibal awoke.

Will startled as Hannibal suddenly drew in a deep breath through his nostrils and shifted against the pillow. His arm stretched above his head, muscles rippling with awakening strength. Will clutched the sheets against his chest and held his breath. All his hopes were crushed as Hannibal's eyelids fluttered open and his lips parted to swallow away the dryness of sleep. Will watched, briefly satisfied by Hannibal's morning vulnerability, and the appealing flex and curve of his muscles as he stretched leisurely across the bed. The sheets caught on his legs, tugging down over his hip to give Will a brief glimpse of silk trousers clutched tight against morning hardness that matched Will's.

“Good morning, Will.” He murmured, casting Will a warm gaze, hooded from sleep.

“Morning.” Will whimpered.

“I trust you slept well.” Hannibal said, rubbing his eyes and scraping his hands through his tousled hair. His other hand reached down to tug the sheets back up to his belly, concealing his erection, out of shame or not Will couldn't gauge by his relaxed expression.

“Yeah.” Will replied, “Very well, actually.”

“It can't be avoided when it's Bach or Mozart lulling you to sleep.” Hannibal smiled, lazily, “I'm pleased you're making use the playlist I made you.”

“It's very calming.” Will replied.

Hannibal came out of a feline stretch, rolling onto his side to gaze into Will's eyes.

“Let's not discuss last night.” He murmured, reaching out a long arm to touch Will's chin, “And simply start over with a second chance.”

“It must be a third or fourth or a fifth chance by now.” Will replied, smiling despite last night's distasteful memories.

“Let it be a tenth; I do not care.” Hannibal replied.

Will made a sound of surprise when Hannibal's hands quested beneath the blankets to find Will's waist. His fingers were warm and strong, marking into Will's bare skin and dragging him closer. His head ducked against Will's shoulder, and he drew in a long breath.

“You smell too good to ignore.” He murmured, breathing warmly against Will's shoulder, “Now that you've finally given up on that terrible aftershave.”

His tone held a lilt of amusement, but a dark current of desire rippled beneath the surface that Will disregard.

“Um … thank you.” Will choked out.

Hannibal drew back with a quiet groan, and pulled his hands above the sheets, both of them clenching into white-knuckled fists.

“I desist.” He murmured, casting Will a pained gaze.

“No, it's okay.” Will mumbled, “I won't freak out on you again.”

“No?” Hannibal asked, “Perhaps not. But I desist for my own reasons as well. This relationship has endured beyond reason despite starvation of touch so long that if I began, I don't think I would stop.”

Will drew his teeth over his lower lip, and turned his gaze to the ceiling. Night had convinced him his desires couldn't get any worse than when concealed by shadows; with the light of day, he'd reasoned, it would be much easier to control himself. He hadn't stopped to think Hannibal's light could outshine the sun.

“I don't know how to do this,” Will admitted, casting a hurried glance at Hannibal before pinning it to his lap. “I haven't been romantically involved with a lot of people. The people I have been with physically haven't necessarily seen every side of me. It's a long standing bad habit; I never dated in high school.

Hannibal glanced over at him, interest easing the burn of desire, “Why not?”

“I was a loner.” Will shrugged, “I didn't socialize. Even if someone had been interested in me, I wouldn't have noticed or reciprocated.”

“Because of your empathy disorder.”

“Mm.” Will agreed, “I didn't understand why people wanted to be in relationships, and once I lost my virginity, I was even more confused by it.”

“It was a bad experience?”

“It was a bad decision.” Will said, wincing at the memory, “I was in college, shriveling under peer pressure. Once my room mate found out I'd never … had sex, he was convinced to set me up on a date.”

“How was the sex?”  
Will glanced over at Hannibal, but all he he saw an a concerned therapist looking back at him.

“It was … mediocre.” Will sighed, “At least in my estimation. I was inexperienced, and the girl was not patient.”

“Did you come?”

Will blushed hard and rubbed a hand over his face as if to dispel the burst of color.

“Yes, but, um … she didn't, and I think that's half the point.” Will mumbled.

“You felt like you failed?”

“I did fail.” Will replied, giving a harsh laugh.

“No, someone else failed to educate you.” Hannibal replied.

“My father was not good at those types of conversations. But that's not to say anything bad about him.” Will said, “He tried his hardest, being a single parent, but some things were bound to slip through the cracks. I grew up in a small town, religion was pretty predominant. Sex-ed was unheard of. I learned about it what I wanted from the web, magazines, and videos, which wasn't much after I encountered some poorly made, amateur porn when I was in high school.”

“Sex has never been made to be appealing to you.” Hannibal concluded.

“It can be appealing.” Will shrugged, “At times … But I didn't realize it until a long time after college, after I'd already fumbled through a few too many encounters.”

“Is this why you are afraid to be intimate with me?” Hannibal asked.

Will met his gaze, blushing again, this time feeling the burn down into his chest. Hannibal's gaze was patient and curious.

“I've never thought about having sex with- … with another man.” Will whispered, swallowing away the dryness coating his throat.

“Why not?”

“It just … never occurred to me; it was never an option.” Will replied, hoarsely.

“And why do you think that is?”

Will frowned, “Another man's hands were never for touching me in a pleasing or gentle way. My father was not the affectionate type, and I didn't have any male friends. The men in my life were always presented in roles of authority – pastors, teachers, law enforcement. If one of them touched me, it was because I was in trouble, or they were trying to guide me in what they perceived was the right direction – since I was always going in the 'wrong' direction.”

“And so the thought of it is unappealing to you?”

Will thought for a moment before lifting his shoulders, “No. I just haven't thought about it. I've always been the ugly little duckling, the weird one, floundering in a strictly normal, standardized world. The last thing I was thinking about was breaking out of normal stereotypes of sexuality when I'd already ignored the stereotypes of gender based masculinity.”

“Would you be ashamed to discover that your sexuality is not as standardized as you thought?” Hannibal asked, his brows drawing in a frown.

“I hadn't thought about it … until now.” Will admitted.

“Will you think about it now?”

Will shrunk farther down against the pillow in response to the direct question.

“It's unavoidable now.” He murmured.

“Perhaps it is the underlying cause for your crisis.” Hannibal suggested, “Why you suddenly chose to shut me out after four months of living here together.”

“I think it was more the idea of having sex with _you_ , than the fear of having sex with another man.” Will replied, giving a sharp laugh.

“What is so terrible about the prospect of having sex with me?” Hannibal asked.

A smile touched his lips, a bit of his professionalism seeping away.

“Nothing … physically.” Will replied, glancing down Hannibal's body.

Hannibal's eyes darkened a bit, “I'm glad to hear it.”

“I can deal with reality.” Will said, “It's always been my imagination and memories I had trouble with. I can't help but link experiences, ideas, even smells and sounds to an image or a person. When I look at you, I'm overwhelmed by everything that has happened between us; the good and the bad. It's confusing; and it makes even the simplistic desires of my body more complicated. You've conditioned me, Hannibal. In some ways, I'm hardwired now to associate your touch with pain and cruelty.”

Hannibal was quiet for several moments, and Will wondered if he might get up and leave. It was another rejection, after such an easily admitted confession of attraction.

“Unfortunately,” Hannibal said, at last, “I've given you many experiences to link to my face, not all of them appealing. If what you say is true, you may never be pleased to see me again.”

“I can compartmentalize to a degree.” Will said, softly, “But I can't forget. I wish it were different.”

“I don't expect an apology from you, Will.” Hannibal said, “I believe I've made my own bed; and as they say, I must lie in it.”

“You're laying in my bed.” Will said, offering a smile.

“Yes, I suppose I am.” Hannibal said, a slow, devilish smiling forming on his lips.

A smile tugged at Will's lips. Going against his logic, he reached over to touch Hannibal's hand, sliding his fingers over the knuckles and lacing them through Hannibal's. Hannibal's eyes brightened a few degrees, his fingers curling tight around Will's.

“It's not all bad.” Will murmured, “I can remember sitting in your office back in Baltimore, drowning in self-doubt … looking up to see you sitting across from me; my anchor.”

“I was also the one throwing you out to sea.” Hannibal reminded him, softly.

“But you never let me drown.”

“No, I never wanted that.”

“I can remember you saving me.” Will added, “Muskrat Farm … The Red Dragon …. Pulling me out of the ocean.”

Hannibal's fingers tightened around Will's, almost crushing the bones. He shifted closer, cradling Will's cheek with his other hand. His thumb stroked back and forth across the cheekbone, soft and rhythmic. His eyes devoured Will's, open and gleaming like hot mocha.

“No, Will. You saved me.”

Will blinked against moisture in his eyes and the knot forming in his throat. He could feel himself coming apart at the seams, the mortar of his walls crumbling and toppling the bricks, his control gushing away with the tide; his fear flowing along with it.

Hannibal's fingers curled tighter against Will's cheek, dragging his chin up as he descended to impart a kiss, soft and bursting with warm adoration. The touch of his lips were like the inside of a rose, velvet and blooming with moisture across Will's slackening lips. The edges of Will's instincts dulled to an inefficient nudge at the back of his mind that he quickly disregarded in favor of the swallowing warmth and emotion that poured from Hannibal's lips and into Will's throat. He melted back against the pillow as Hannibal nudged closer and over top him, his hand gliding down to softly grasp Will's throat. Will moaned quietly as Hannibal's tongue furled across his own, tasting and leaving his own taste on Will's palette. He lingered for long moments, suckling at Will's lips and tongue, leaving saliva gleaming on his chin and upper lip in his surge of passion.

When at last he drew back, Will sucked in a gasping breath to deprived lungs. He clutched onto Hannibal's chest with both hands, prodded by undeniable needs and a half-formed decision.

“Be gentle with me.” He whispered, gazing into Hannibal's eyes, “Be patient. I know I'm stubborn and indecisive, and you're impulsive and eager – but maybe there's a middle ground somewhere between us.”

Hannibal's eyes widened a bit, “You are considering exploring whether it would be appealing or not?”

“Yes.” Will whispered, breathless, “That is, if you can be gentle.”

Hannibal shifted closer, his throat working against the eager knot in his throat, “I can be gentle, Will.”

“Can you?” Will breathed, “I don't know if I believe you after everything I've seen.”

“You haven't seen everything.” Hannibal reminded him, grasping eagerly at Will's hip.

“Then show me.” Will murmured.

Hannibal let out a shuddering breath as he surged forward. He crushed his mouth against Will's, bubbling with eagerness, before suddenly recalling Will's admonition. Drawing back, he stroked Will's cheek with his thumb and planted a softer kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“I don't think you're aware of how much you're asking.” Hannibal whispered, kissing haltingly along Will's lower lip.

“You want to ravage me.” Will murmured, more of a conclusion than a question.

Hannibal grunted an affirmation, thrusting against him hard enough for Will to feel the rigid head of his cock against Will's leg.

Will carded his fingers through Hannibal's hair and clutched on at the nape, forcing Hannibal's head up.

“You don't have any choice.” He said, stroking his fingers across Hannibal's cheek.

Hannibal ducked his head into Will's shoulder, spreading wet kisses across the skin and vibrating muffled groans down into his bones. Will clutched Hannibal's head to him as the other man's hands caressed down his body, awakening a fire in Will's veins. He groaned aloud, sucking in deep breaths that held his racing mind as steady as he could. He was afraid of losing confidence and running away again, but the need was too strong to break away.

Hannibal's mouth curved lower, tasting it's way down Will's heaving chest to find a nipple, peaked and flushed with need. He brushed his thumb across the pebbled skin, moaning a praise as Will's back arched in response. Will locked his hands together above his head, forcing himself to endure the sweet torture, which he otherwise would have tried to escape from had it been anyone else touching him.

Grasping Will's hips in strong, swallowing hands, Hannibal latched his mouth to the dusky nipple and sucked down in gentle pulls. Will bucked against Hannibal's grip, his fingers flying loose of each other to scrape across Hannibal's back. He caught onto Hannibal's shirt and tore the material up to his shoulders, nails seeking out the skin beneath.

Hannibal breathed hot across the wet, tingling nipple, uttering a moan as Will's nails tore into his flesh.

“Mm, that's good, Will.” He murmured, flexing his fingers around Will's bare hips, “I will handle you with care, but you may be as harsh as you wish.”

Will panted and moaned, gazing down his heaving chest and belly to where his cock tented his trousers, visibly throbbing despite the fabric.

“Please ...” He rasped, pulsing his hips up against the pressure of Hannibal's hands.

Hannibal ignored his plea, and ducked his head to Will's chest. His mouth touched against Will's other nipple, quickly drawing it to a hard point with a few wet suckles. Will moaned, batting at Hannibal's back and hair. His spine twisted, but failed to escape as Hannibal's hand slipped under his back to hold him close.

“Hannibal, please.” Will moaned, louder to get his attention.

He delved is fingers into Hannibal's thick hair and pulled fiercely. Hannibal's mouth slipped away from his nipple, releasing it with a loud, wet smack of his lips. Will moaned as the skin burned with arousal and saliva. His nipples flushed pink against the white canvas of his chest, thoroughly aroused.

Hannibal's hand slid flat along his ribs and along the side of his pectoral. His dark gaze followed the caress, devouring the pale skin beneath his tan, calloused hand. Will eased from his desperate pleading, joining in Hannibal's mesmerized gaze. Hannibal's hand arched up over Will's chest and settled against his heart, monitoring the beats for several breathless moments. When he moved again, his hand smoothed quickly down to Will's belly, and his mouth dove down to taste the skin and the tiny trail of dark hair that dusted down the center of his quivering stomach.

Will's moans burst out again in earnest, his fingers latching onto Hannibal's hair. His body sang, nerve-endings bursting and throbbing with need as Hannibal peeled the silk pajama pants from Will's body with one clean pull.

Will flushed profusely as Hannibal drew back, kneeling between Will's open thighs and discarding the trousers over the side of the bed. Will lay naked and shivering beneath him, his legs splayed open to display the prominent form of his swollen cock.

Hannibal licked his lips slowly, gaze working up and down Will's naked body. His hands flexed into fists, holding back a burst of motion that would not at all have been gentle.

“Would you like me to touch you?” Hannibal asked, his voice quiet and raspy.

Will whimpered and nodded his head. His cock pulsed against his belly, glowing red with engorged veins and gleaming moisture at the tip. His groin burned with molten warmth, and he ached to be touched.

Hannibal extended a hand to Will's thigh, and ran his palm along the smooth skin until he reached the sharp point of Will's hip. He paused, dragging his thumb across the bone and watching as Will squirmed in response.

“Tell me, Will,” He murmured, gazing with satisfaction at Will's hard, throbbing cock, “Have you ever been this hard for someone?”

Will bit at his lower lip, swallowing back a whine. He shook his head.

“Good,” Hannibal whispered, dragging his thumb down the bulging center vein of Will's cock.

Will jerked, moaning aloud. The simple touch ignited a fire and an ache that made his whole body brace for orgasm.

“Good,” Hannibal repeated, “Then that also means you've never come the way I'm about to make you come.”

His fingers curled around the base of Will's cock and performed one long, lavish stroke up to the tip that made Will's back arch sharply and his toes curl in pleasure.

“Oh my god!” Will moaned, his fingers grabbing at the sheets.

Hannibal drew his fist back down to the base, pulling tender skin taut over the thrumming erection and exposing the tiny, leaking opening. Hannibal's eyes fastened on the blushing, throbbing flesh clutched in his fist, pupils expanding across deepening brown. The color was high on his cheeks and his lips trembling as he worked to control the passion that ebbed and flowed within his chest. Will could see the struggle behind his eyes, the desire to ravage Will's body with all his strength and need. His fist trembled as he pumped it over the swollen length of Will's cock, pleasuring him from root to tip and squeezing pre-cum from the head while keeping Will balanced on the knife's tip of orgasm. Will gasped in breathless moans, his body writhing, helplessly guided by the pull like a puppet on a string.

“Oh, please.” He whined, grabbing at Hannibal's shoulder.

He dragged them closer, throwing his legs over Hannibal's thighs and locking his ankles over Hannibal's spine. His hand dragged across Hannibal's back and chest, clawing through chest hair and into muscle, delighting in the sensation of skin beneath his hand, while another hand touched him so perfectly.

“Will,” Hannibal said, cradling his cheek, “Will.”

Will opened his eyes, looking up at Hannibal through a haze of ecstasy. Hannibal's gaze held onto his, keeping his eyes open and focused despite the pleasure bearing down him.

“Look at me,” Hannibal murmured, “I want you to let go, Will. Don't think about it. Just give in.”

Will drew in a halting breath and tried to nod. Hannibal's grip surged around his cock, working the hard, aching flesh, making it hard to focus. If he'd had any lingering doubts, they all seeped away in the sound of Hannibal's voice urging him to climax.

A moan formed on his lips, but he couldn't make a sound as the pressure hanging low in his belly finally broke. His whole body stiffened, and the heat rose up to swallow him entirely. With a blunt, open-mouthed grunt, he came, his hips bucking, his whole body trembling in consuming pleasure. The spasms surged through him, one after the other, driving the pleasure and release from him in a long, hot spurts that dappled his chest and stomach.

Hannibal's hand worked him through the long, aching convulsions until he lapsed against the sheets, soft and spent. Will blinked, as if waking from a strange dream. His ears rang a high, deafening pitch, and all he could hear was the stampeding of his heart.

Hannibal stroked his cheek, and bent down to impart a warm, lingering kiss on his sweat glazed forehead. Will whimpered at the sound of Hannibal's voice, raspy with pleasure and spoken on the note of a moan, “That was beautiful, darling.”

Will slowly pulled himself up to his elbows and gazed down at the milky drops of come that were sprinkled across his abdomen.

“You were right.” He began, slowly lifting his gaze to Hannibal. His remarks stuttered and died on his tongue as his gaze met with the sight of Hannibal rising to his knees and pushing his pants down to reveal his thick cock, throbbing with a web of engorged veins. His eyes smoldered down on Will as he took his hard cock in the same hand that had just jerked Will off. His fingers, wet and dripping with Will's come, spread the thick, sticky moisture over his erection and gave it a swift, harsh jerk.

Will gasped in a breath. He lay frozen against the pillow as Hannibal shifted closer, bracing one hand on the wall above Will's head. His knees spread wider as he crowded in, forcing Will's legs up against his ribs. Grabbing again at the length of his hard, dusky cock, he pumped his fist and breathed in shallow, erratic gasps. With the slick of Will's cum, his hand slid effortlessly across thickly veined flesh, his thumb rubbing mercilessly at the thick rim of his cockhead. A moan breached his lips, and his head fell back in pleasure, baring the length of his throat, pulsing with surging heartbeats. His hips strained forward, dragged in by the lure of pleasure. Every muscle in his body clenched in anticipation, mesmerizing Will in a show of rippling strength.

Will grabbed onto the sheets, drawing in a shuddering breath as he watched Hannibal's broad, capable hand stroke his wet cock. He'd thought about sex with Hannibal more than once, but somehow, he hadn't imagined he'd get a show like this. He was enthralled by the thickness and length of Hannibal's cock, the subtle curve, the flare of the swollen, leaking head, the bursting veins coloring him purple the harder and more eager he got. He wanted to touch it, but he didn't want to intrude on the pleasure that Hannibal so expertly wrung from his own body.

Will gasped as Hannibal came suddenly, his hips jerking forward and a growl tearing from his lips. He bucked forward, nearly folding Will in half beneath him and showering the pale skin below him in another douse of thick, hot release. Will's eyes slammed shut as a ribbon of come landed on his cheek and mouth, assaulting his tongue with salt and heat.

Will was still gasping in shocked pleasure when Hannibal sank to the bed next to him. Will carefully wiped the come away from his eye and cracked his eyes open. Hannibal leaned against the headboard, his face lax with pleasure, his chest heaving in deep breaths. His hand rested limp against his thigh, dripping with milky come.

He caught Will's gaze, and smiled weakly. Will smiled back.

 

 


	5. Consummate

A scented candle burned in the center of the table, permeating the room with subtle hints of vanilla. The lights were dim except for a small light above the island counter, where Hannibal, dressed casually in a charcoal sweater, prepared fresh caught fish.

Will watched from the other side of the counter, nursing a glass of cabernet sauvignon in red. His eyes were focused on the swift, graceful movements of Hannibal's hands as he prepared the gutted and skinned fish.

Much of his opinion about those hands had changed drastically in the last week. There was a din of confusion in the back of his mind that he ignored in favor of the present pleasure he'd received dozens of times at the touch of those skilled hands since the morning he'd given in to Hannibal's seduction. Ignoring the worst in order to continue enjoying the best – he was familiar with that ubiquitous pitfall of their relationship, and yet he didn't have the urge to lecture himself about it.

“I can tell something is on your mind, Will.” Hannibal said, barely looking up from dinner, “Your thoughts are loud, and breaking past the insulation of your skull. What am I hearing?”

Will sighed, quietly, catching Hannibal's attention.

“If you did not want me in your head, you should not have offered me such an alluring invitation.” Hannibal remarked, his lips curling.

“Having you in my head is routine by now.” Will replied, “But I'd gotten out of the habit of discussing what you'd dug up.”

“Three years and no therapy?” Hannibal asked, “It's a shame, Will. Therapy is an important part of understanding and appreciating oneself.”

“I didn't think another therapist would quite understand me the way you did.”

Hannibal's eyes warmed, “For now, I will take it as a compliment … So, tell me what you are thinking.”

“I'm a little confused.” Will confessed, edging closer to lean against the counter, “It's as if my body has finally caught up with what my brain was thinking all along. There's a discrepancy between the two.”

“About sex?”

“About all of it.” Will clarified, “Our living here together as if it's not strange, and the lackadaisical sense of complacency I feel when we're lying in bed together in the aftermath … Even when I reach over and hold your hand, and try to physically remind myself that you've hurt me – it just makes me want you more.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Maybe you've conditioned me to like pain.” Will said, his head tilting, “To expect it.”

“That's not what I want for you.” Hannibal paused from his dinner preparations, “The beauty of pain is only useful if it's endured in the light of consensual understanding and self acceptance. If you consider intimacy with me as a form of punishment, I'm inclined to break it off immediately.”

Will pursed his lips, “Isn't that punishment too?”

“No, it's preservation.” Hannibal said, firmly, “Of your mental state and your self-worth.”

He let out a sigh and leaned on the counter, his shoulders hunching tight. Will noted true concern in the clench of his muscles and the furrow of his brow.

“For the longest time, it was my job to understand your mind.” Hannibal said, “And I thought I had mastered even the lowest, darkest levels.”

“Now you think you haven't?” Will asked.

“I came to terms with loneliness years ago.” Hannibal said, “Years would pass when my life was void of intimacy, affection, companionship. It did not bother me... until you. In you, I saw my loneliness reflected back at me in jarring clarity. But you were always reaching, Will. Your family of strays, your love for and commitment to Abigail … your clutch for balance with Alana. I haven't forgotten those reaches, Will; and I thought a intimate touch was what you needed to heal you of these wounds.”

“Well, they definitely don't make it worse.” Will muttered, ducking his head against a blush.

“Perhaps in some way intimacy from me does help you, but I'm afraid it will also make things worse.” Hannibal said, “Forcing you to accept things as they are; seeing cruelty as a part of me and our relationship … It's not exactly what I had hoped for when I first stumbled upon the chance for friendship between us.”

“But isn't it?” Will asked, crossing his arms, “Isn't cruelty a part of this relationship?”

“It doesn't have to be.” Hannibal said, his eyes growing liquid in the dim lighting, “Not anymore.”

“I don't know how to separate you from your savage qualities.” Will murmured, “I'm used to choosing to ignore the worst in you to continue enjoying your best.” He cast Hannibal bitter smile, “Maybe that's conditioned too.”

“The world conditions us to many things, most of them painful but necessary.” Hannibal said, touching Will's forearm with a balancing grip, “The beauty of the human mind is that it can be reconditioned. It is resilient and formidable, despite all that aims to break it. And yours is the most dynamic mind I have ever had the pleasure to study and understand. Conditioning is something you defy, Will, even conditioning from my hand. You'll always bounce back; I have faith in that.”

Will met his gaze with a brief smile, “This isn't what I imagined when we were tumbling through the open air.”

Hannibal let out a chuckle, easing the tension gripping the atmosphere, “Me either.”

“What _did_ you imagine?” Will asked.

Hannibal drew in a deep breath. His eyes grew distant; his smile softened, “I imagined that if we were swept away by the vast ocean and drowned in it's depths, I could not have been more pleased by our ending together.”

“You were okay with dying?” Will asked, his brows furrowing softly.

“The concept of death doesn't frighten me.” Hannibal replied, “It's a motivation to live each day as if it is the last one.”

Will swallowed hard. He dropped his gaze to the half-prepared dinner on the counter before them.

“It frightens me.” He said, at last.

“Why?” Hannibal asked, “Why does it frighten you, Will?”

“Because,” Will said, licking his lips, “I know I'll go into eternity with regret.”

“What regrets?”

“The things I didn't do. What I couldn't change. Saying things I didn't mean, meaning to say things I never will ...”

You can't change the past, Will. Only the future is in front of you.”

“What if the future scares me too?”

“Our future?” Hannibal asked.

“Yes … I suppose I won't be singular ever again.” Will murmured.

“What about the future?” Hannibal asked, “The unknown? The intimacy?”

“All of it.”

“If you only had one day left, what would you do?” Hannibal asked, “That is what you must ask yourself if the decision eludes you; the finality will most assuredly make the decision for you.”

“I would do all the things I didn't before, if we're putting it simply.” Will replied.

“Say the things you mean, instead of the ones you don't?”

“Faced with death, I guess that's the only thing we can do.” Will murmured.

“Death isn't facing us.” Hannibal said, squeezing Will's arm, “An eternity lies before us, but not the black void that is mortality. Will come with me behind the veil?”

“I think I already have.” Will smiled softly, “You gave me a rare gift.”

Hannibal's eyes softened, and Will could see the reflection of longing and perhaps and a tint of regret in their depths. He reached up and slipped his fingers behind Will's neck, drawing Will closer to him for a gentle kiss. Their lips joined briefly, sharing fleeting moments of tenderness that tasted like a blossoming future.

Hannibal drew back first, drawing his hand slowly forward to cradle Will's cheek, “This is the place I wanted for us, Will. To escape together, into the unknown. My choice is to ride this current to it's bitter end – with you. Are you still afraid?”

“I'm not sure I know how to be anything else.” Will whispered, voice faltering.

Hannibal looped his arm around Will's waist, dragging him into a soft but firm embrace.

“Will,” He sighed, stroking back Will's curls, “My love for you is not limited to only the possibilities you can envision. It exists despite your fear, despite whether you acknowledge it or not. If you cannot trust anything else, trust that. If the rest of the world confuses you, know what I'm saying now will always ring clear and honest.”

Will shuddered softly and broke his gaze off from Hannibal's. The swallowing, magnetic quality of Hannibal's eyes and the stark concentration of love inside them were too much to bear under Will's own lack of faith.

“Will,” Hannibal repeated, lifting his chin gently, “Have you heard anything I've said?”

“Yes.” Will choked out.

“I do not think you've heard it clearly enough. I love you.”

Will paused, his heart stilling for several brief seconds in his chest before taking off at a stuttering bolt.

“It would be trivial to disguise it in lavish words and connotations.” Hannibal said, giving a choked laugh, “After everything that has occurred between us, we deserve nothing but brutal honesty.”

“Why haven't you said it before, then?” Will asked, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I don't know.” Hannibal murmured, returning the smile despite the gleam of tears in his eyes, “Perhaps I was afraid too.”

“I don't want to be afraid anymore.” Will whispered, reaching up to clutch Hannibal's face, “I don't want to regret anything.”

Crushing his lips against Hannibal's, he wrapped his arms fully around the other man's waist, fingers clutching at the soft, woven fabric of Hannibal's sweater. Hannibal paused for mere moments before threading his fingers through Will's curls and dragging Will's head back to assert a dominant, powerful kiss across Will's parted, gasping lips. Will moaned, sinking down against Hannibal's chest as his legs quivered and his body melted into arousal.

Hannibal dragged them about, pushing Will up against the counter and pressing a needy growl into the kiss. The vibrations rippled down Will's tongue and throat, meeting with his own mewling sound of frantic need. He clawed at Hannibal's shirt and up against his neck, a silent plea.

Hannibal drew back, panting in husky exhales that blasted across Will's cheeks like a furnace. His hands clutched Will's face, petting eagerly across his jaw and his swollen, rosy lips.

“No regrets?” He murmured, pressing a kiss against the corner of Will's mouth, “Don't mince words, Will.”

Will braced himself on the counter, muscles quivering weakly. Hannibal's weight pressed between his legs, flush against the hard bulge growing in his pants. Will licked his lips anxiously, considering ending his train of thought before it could carry them to the bedroom.

Instead, he lifted his gaze boldly to Hannibal's, “I want you.” He whispered, “Against all logic and reason, I want you, and- ...” He broke off momentarily as Hannibal bent closer, grasping at his backside, “And I don't just want you halfway.” He rushed on in a moan, “I want it all, Hannibal; complete consummation.”

Hannibal gave a muted groan and ducked his head. As he grasped Will against him, Will could feel a tremble ripple through his body.

“Are you certain?” Hannibal asked, slowly lifting his head to greet Will's harried gaze.

“Yes.” Will insisted, shoving away from the counter and up against Hannibal's chest, “Maybe my mind and imagination are confused, but my body isn't.”

“Shouldn't they agree?”

Will surged forward, joining their lips in a swift, biting kiss. When he pulled back, Hannibal gazed at him with wide, blinking eyes.

“Not this time.”

 

~

 

Partially prepared dinner sat, slowly growing cold on the counter. The candle burned low and hot, casting a dancing light show across the empty kitchen. A few last sips of red wine reflected the glow.

Dark and quiet, the cabin was only disturbed by the small, desperate moaning that seeped past the closed door of the bedroom. No like except the light of the moon gleamed through the window, illuminating the two bodies twisted together on the sheets.

Hannibal could hear the pounding of his heart like a drum roll in his ears as he bent over Will's smaller, trembling body. Sweat glazed between them, and the brilliant heat of two throbbing members that rubbed and chafed together nurtured a red flame of need that had been growing since Hannibal could remember laying eyes on Will.

Their lips clashed together again, smearing saliva and trading moans. Hannibal sank his fingers into Will's hair, dragging Will's head back in one long, beautiful stretch. The white of his throat gleamed flawless in the dim light, his Adam's apple bobbing anxiously as he awaited the snare of Hannibal's teeth. Wide, blue eyes darted around the room and paused on Hannibal, eager and blinking. With a loud moan, Hannibal sank his mouth to the pale flesh, dragging evening stubble and his moist lips down the curve. Will writhed beneath him, fingers grabbing at his shoulders, then nails biting into skin. His hips bucked up against Hannibal's, driving his rigid cock up into Hannibal's stomach like a velveteen knife.

“Please ...” The whine came low and trembling from his lips.

Hannibal pulled his lips back, biting in shallow nips down the throbbing pulse until he reached the hollow between Will's collarbones; he sucked at it, leaving a small pool of saliva. He slowly lifted his head, letting a growling sigh past his lips.

“Let the pleasure marinate, Will.” He murmured, dragging his hand down Will's chest and belly.

The skin quivered pleasingly beneath his touch. Hannibal ducked his head again, puckering his lips against the rosy peak of Will's nipple. Hands grabbed at his hair, rough and yanking. The spark of pain across his scalp only served to fan the gorged flame of his lust and set his teeth sharp across the tender skin, nipping at the small, hard nipple until Will moaned a loud sound of pain and pleasure.

“Hannibal, please ...”

Hannibal's mouth darted across Will's heaving chest to latch onto the other nipple, soft and flat before the warmth and tease of Hannibal's mouth drew it taut. Hannibal growled at the suddenly short reach of his control as Will bucked beneath him. His lingering mouth pulled away from Will's nipple, leaving it wet and dusky as he delved down for softer, more tender treasures.

Will's belly quivered and drew tight as Hannibal sank his face into it's softness. His hands patted against at Hannibal's head, gentler but no less urgent in their request. They settled on the hair at Hannibal's nape, lacing into the strands and pulling eagerly in time with his body's rapid responses. Hannibal spread a dozen kisses over the skin, leaving the navel wet from his tongue, before finding Will's hipbone with his lips. He sucked across the sharp bone and down into soft, musky smelling hair where he encountered soft, tender balls.

Will gasped aloud, “Fuck, Hannibal ...”

Hannibal nosed along the side of Will's testicles, finding them resting high and full. A smile pulled at his lips despite the anxious excitement rattling through his chest. He held back still, feasting his eyes on Will's red, engorged cock pulsing against his stomach, and the look of utter need on his face.

“You don't know how much I want this.” He murmured, kissing his way up Will's balls and shaft, “You don't know how many different ways I've fantasized this.”

Will whimpered, hands curling into fists around the sheets. His back arched gently as Hannibal's mouth pressed a kiss against the flared rim of his cock head. Moisture drew to a fine bead at the tip, swelling slowly but steadily with racing need.

“I'm going to take you slowly.” Hannibal added, slipping his hands under Will's thighs, “Thoroughly.”

Will's legs lifted apart compliantly to the guidance of Hannibal's hands. His mouth opened in a quiet gasp as Hannibal pushed his legs up against his sides, displaying him open and vulnerable, but grabbed at his knees to hold the position. Hannibal slid his hands down the backs of Will's thighs and to the taut, round swells of his ass cheeks, struggling to hold the need taut in his chest. Will's balls burgeoned huge and swollen between his upraised legs, but below, his little, pink hole was taut and shadowed in the dimness of the room. The sight was almost too pleasing to control himself.

Hannibal drew his thumb across the pucker, pursing his lips across a smirk as Will reacted sharply, his whole body clenching despite the gentility.

“Hannibal.” He moaned.

Hannibal shifted down against the bed, directing his mouth to the underside of Will's balls, kissing slowly downward toward the perineum. Will uttered a quiet moan and gripped his knees tighter, as Hannibal's mouth brushed against the taut opening. Hannibal pressed his tongue fully across the hole in a long, lavish lick that filled his mouth with the subtle taste and his head with the din of wild need.

He sucked his breath through his nostrils, gripping at his control. He wanted to fuck into Will right now, no preparation, no lube, ravish Will's body, filling him full of cock, no mercy. He'd entertained that fantasy far too long, knowing it was unrealistic but holding on to the immediate pleasure he felt upon revisiting it in his mind.

He had to be gentle now. Gentle, just as Will had requested.

Grabbing at Will's thighs, he pushed his face into the warm crevice, sending his tongue seeking in long, thrilling circles around the clenched hole. Will squirmed above him, giving little kitten whimpers that made Hannibal's cock ache and his hands tremble. Shifting into short, firm licks that teased at the opening but didn't even begin to penetrate, Hannibal teased Will into grunting, squirming frenzy. His hands batted helplessly at Hannibal's hair, legs sinking back down against the mattress to lever up against Hannibal's face.

Hannibal drew back suddenly, grabbing Will's thighs and forcing them back up against his chest. Will paused, panting loudly. His eyes blinked rapidly, while in the dim light of the moon, a blush rose high on his cheeks. Splayed before Hannibal, his exposed hole gleamed pink and wet and his body quivered pleasingly.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes. Will shrank down against the sheets, letting his arms fall loosely above his head. No reprimand was spoken, but Will was submissive.

Hannibal bent down against, darting his tongue across his lips just before his mouth reached Will's balls. Swirling his tongue along the underside of the tender sac, he lathered Will's balls in saliva before parting his lips to take one against his tongue. Will gasped aloud in the quiet, his fingers digging into mounds of bedding.

“Fuck ...” He whimpered, arching up against Hannibal's face, “Hannibal ...”

Hannibal suckled gently, first one and then the other, effectively bringing the arousal and desperation to a peak. Will writhed against his face, breathing in broken, eager gasps that verged on sobs of ecstasy. His cock lay throbbing, thickly veined and ready to burst, against his belly, but Hannibal didn't touch him there. Not yet. He licked back up down against the perineum, drawing the tip of his tongue in firm circle around the tender spot. Will arched sharply, his hands pulling at Hannibal's hair like reins. He lifted his head from the pillow, briefly watching Hannibal's head ducking between his legs.

“Hannibal, fuck, please ...” Will moaned, head tossing against the pillow.

Hannibal drew back, licking his lips as he watched a tiny stream of pre-cum drip from the tip of Will's cock.

With a growl of need he grabbed Will's knees again, and turned Will onto his stomach. Pushing his legs open wide, Hannibal grasped Will's ass cheeks and bared the saliva damp hole to his hungry lips. Will moaned, grabbing onto the sheets as Hannibal thrust his mouth into the cleft, sucking at the little pucker before drawing back to swirl his tongue around it.

Will buried his face in the pillow, muffling long, loud moans. Hannibal kept his eyes open as he fed on Will's flesh, watching the glorious curve of Will's back, the clench of muscle across his shoulder blades, the pop of veins through his forearms as he delved his fingers into the sheets for stability. His ringlets clung damp against his neck, perspiration and need squeezing from every pore. His pert ass rocked back against Hannibal's face; no sign of the undecided, fearful Will Hannibal had spent the better part of the last two months with.

Hannibal pulled back a few inches to eye his progress. Will squirmed toward the retreating warmth of his mouth, asshole wet and relaxed, open and hungry for more. Hannibal bit back a moan and pressed a kiss against the inner curve of one cheek. Kneading his hands over the round, bunching muscles, he spread Will's flesh open as wide as he could manage and thrust his tongue into the opening hole. His tongue breached the ring of muscle, sliding into the taut clench of Will's body, rewarding him with a fresh burst of taste and loud, choking moan from Will.

“Oh my god ...” Will whimpered, arching back against Hannibal's face.

Hannibal moaned into Will's skin as he thrust his tongue into the hole, working it in as deeply as he could. Will's body clenched against the invasion at first, but quickly caved to the soft, arousing caress. He opened like a flower blooming, wide and blushing, dripping wet. His soft, pleased whimpering carried the preparation through until Hannibal leaned back, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth.

Will lifted his head from the pillow, blinking and disoriented as Hannibal rose from the bed and walked a few paces to the night stand. Hannibal pulled the drawer open, and Will's brow began to furrow. Hannibal plucked a small bottle from the drawer, casting a smile at Will.

“I don't want to hurt you. This will make it easier.” He said, climbing back onto the bed.

“When did you get that?” Will asked, his mouth beginning to curve.

“Never mind that.” Hannibal murmured, smoothing a hand over his backside.

He cracked the bottle open, and carefully poured a generous amount directly over Will's gaping hole. Will gasped quietly, body tensing against the sheets. He glanced anxiously over his shoulder at Hannibal, chewing at his lip as Hannibal smeared some of the lube over his cock.

Casting aside the bottle, Hannibal bent over Will's spread body and directed his cock to the gleaming entrance. A shiver worked it's way through his body. He worked to hold his hand steady around his cock, rubbing the head softly against Will's entrance.

Will's breath caught, his back arching softly, “Hannibal ...”

Hannibal pressed a kiss against his shoulder, “Are you afraid?”

Will swallowed hard. He was quiet for a few moments before he shook his head, “No … No, I trust you.”

Hannibal bit back a smile as exaltation swelled in his chest.

“Good.” He murmured, moderately.

Will's back arched sharper, ass rising up to greet him as Hannibal urged his cock against the wet, pink opening. The flesh stretched around him as he pressed inside, controlling the urge the thrust wildly into Will.

“Oh my god.” Will moaned, his body growing tense and still.

Hannibal pulsed his hips gently against the pressure, slowly working his cock in past the grip of muscle. The lube carried him smoothly deeper despite Will's virginal tightness, submerging him in wet, gripping heat that stole a dozen heartbeats from his chest.

“Will ...” He breathed out.

Will gave an incoherent moan and broke out of his stillness. He arched back against Hannibal, drawing his knees under him just enough to meet the thrust. His ass rose out of the curve of spine, cheeks spreading gloriously to provide an unhindered view of Hannibal's cock delving inside.

“Oh, fuck ...” The curse burst past Hannibal's lips involuntarily.

He spread his hands over Will's ass, grasping hungrily at the full mounds as he thrust in to the hilt.

“Hannibal!” Will cried, sharply, his head jerking up from the pillow.

Hannibal paused, petting Will's flank with a fluttering hand, “You're hurt?”

“No, no.” Will gasped, shaking his head vehemently, “Please, don't stop.”

Hannibal withdrew to the tip, watching as he leaked pearly pre-cum into Will's opening. He was so hard it hurt; so hard he wanted to come into Will's ass right now.

“Hannibal ...” Will whined, impatiently.

Hannibal shut his eyes briefly as he thrust back inside. He pulled back on the pleasure, forcing it from the edge, grabbing at his control. He was going to fuck Will long and proper; no coming two seconds in.

He started a slow, shallow pace; not too hard, not too deep, just enough to whet Will's desires and tease his aching cock.

Will was incredibly tight around him, despite all the preparation, and it only made Hannibal more aroused. He longed for and dreamed of this moment for so long, and now that it had finally taken hold in reality, he was certain now that no one else had taken Will in this way – and no one else ever would.

If his tight little body weren't enough, Will's whimpers and shocked gasps wordlessly explained his discovery, and his pleasure. He pulled his knees under him, meeting Hannibal's thrusts with fevered rocking and slack-jawed moaning, lips seeping pleasure drugged saliva into the pillow. His eyes rolled back with every thrust, fingers grabbing rhythmically at the sheets.

Hannibal spread his hands across Will's ass, growling low in pleasure. Will's body took him deeper and deeper, eagerly sucking him in now. His hole glowed rosy red with friction, and every time Hannibal drew back far enough to release his cock completely, the opening stayed lax and gaping, accepting his cock back inside immediately.

“Oh ...” Hannibal moaned, cracking his eyes open to take the round, upraised ass and the graceful curve of his spine. He slid one hand down the arch, dragging his nails across the pale skin and muscle, and threading his fingers into a thick handful of silky curls.

Will gasped as Hannibal pulled on his hair, dragging his back into an even deeper arch. Hannibal thrust in hard as he palmed Will's cock, giving both hair and erection a firm pull. His cock plunged in to the depths, hips smacking against Will's ass, cock head greeting Will's blooming prostate.

“Oh my god!” Will shouted, grabbing onto the headboard, “Hannibal!”

Hannibal growled a response and crowded in closer, thrust deep and heavy into Will's trembling body. He dove in with his mouth, clamping down the side of Will's neck and suckling under he felt Will pulling away from the bruising suction. The flesh tasted familiar and heady, but sharp with pleasure he had never before tasted on Will. It opened the pit of hunger deeper in his belly, deeper to what felt like a bottomless chasm.

“Will ...” He panted huskily against Will's ear, “Oh, darling.”

The bed groaned as he altered his pace again, driving himself hard over Will's shaking, arching body, back down bent painfully under the pull of Hannibal's fist in his hair. Hannibal grabbed at Will's cock and balls, stroking them both with eager, steady caresses that pulled pleasured moans from between the grunting and growling.

“Hannibal ...” Will panted, turning his head against his chin to gaze up at him.

The pressure of those wide, blue eyes on him nearly drove Hannibal over the edge, but he pulled back, halting suddenly from his hungry rutting. He bent over Will's body, panting and dragging himself away from the edge of pleasure, not ready for it to be over.

Will moaned, shifting back against him, ass squirming open and eager.

Hannibal grabbed at the base of his cock, pushing down the pleasure and directing his shaft against Will's cleft. He dragging the throbbing erection against Will's hole, and tapped it softly with his cock head, drawing a quiet gasp from Will. Will's head tossed to the side again, gaze catching on Hannibal's cock drumming against his hole.

“Put it in me.” He breathed, eyes heavy and hazy with lust.

Hannibal's lips curled as he heaved in a deep breath through his nose. Whatever was left of Will's virginity was gone. No more fear of the unknown; just yearning. And fuck it if Hannibal could find anything more arousing.

With a long thrust, he was back inside, tunneling to Will's depths and finding his prostate, grinding down against it mercilessly. Will's mouth stretched open in a long, shuddering moan as Hannibal's hips circled down against his ass, stretching him open and torturing his sensitive prostate with sweet pressure. His fingers stretched out to grab at the sheets, bracing himself against the mattress as as Hannibal bore down, driving him to the bed.

“Hannibal, god ...” Will gasped.

Hannibal drew back suddenly, releasing the pressure for mere moments before he braced his knee into the mattress and planted his other foot over Will's leg, just against his hip; mounting Will as as steep and deep as he could. Will gasped as Hannibal resumed his thrusting, driving his cock straight down into Will's hole, deeper now than he had thought possible.

“Fuck!” He cried, arching under the steep, hard thrust.

Hannibal grabbed onto Will's hair again, shoving his face down into the mattress as he thrust steadily, chipping away at Will's strength and stamina. His own pleasure rose like a tide in his belly, swelling his cock unbearably, drawing his balls so tightly is nearly ached. Still, he pushed on, fighting back the surge of tingles in his groin, the growing pulse of white-hot pleasure behind his eyelids, the rhythmic drum of his body urging him to accept completion.

He could hardly keep his eyes open against the blinding need, but he was desperate to see Will underneath him. The pleasure of watching Will's smaller, trembling body taking his cock, enjoying it, and breaking under the ecstasy was unparalleled; this one image would live in his memory for the rest of his life, a room in his memory palace he'd rather leave with the door wide open.

“Will … Will, oh fuck ...” The moan spilled past his lips as he struggled on the brink of pleasure, “Oh my god …”

The words choked off into a jumbled mess of ecstatic exclamation as the pleasure overwhelmed him, the crushing tide of pleasure swallowing him in brilliant orgasm. He pulled out just as the pleasure came rushing up through his cock. He fell over Will's limp body, fist working frantically over his frothing cock, spilling his release across Will's pale, sweat lined back. His hips jerked forward, slamming his cock into the tunnel of his hand over and over again, spurting abundantly through a dozen spasms before the climax withered.

Gasping and weak, Hannibal sank down next to Will. He gently milked the last few drops from his cock, and blinked away the array of stars behind his eyes. Through the dull ringing in his ears, he could make out the sound of Will's eager panting, and the wet sound of cock being stroked to the edge of pleasure.

He opened his eyes to see Will rolled onto his back, fist pumping eager over his cock, head tilted back, face tense with concentration. He threw out a long arm, pushing Will's hand away from his cock with an almost angry jerk.

Will's eyes startled open. His cheeks were aflame, and his lips parted and panting in need and dissatisfaction. He didn't voice his frustration, however, as Hannibal prowled across his legs and took his throbbing, leaking cock in the fist he'd just come into. Hannibal's come smeared across Will's cock as he dragged his hand down to the base, holding Will's erection upright to his mouth.

Will scrambled up against the pillow, gasping as Hannibal's mouth took him.

“Hannibal ...” Will whined, grabbing onto Hannibal's hair.

He pulled Hannibal's face down against his cock, moaning louder now as Hannibal suckled, quick, eager pulls that had saliva streaming from his lips down Will's shaft in a matter of moments. With a twist of his fist at the base, he levered the pleasure even higher, causing Will's hips to jerk and squirm with approaching climax.

“Oh my god … oh my god ...” Will panted, groping at Hannibal's hair, “I'm going to ...”

The exclamation broke off into a low cry as he spasmed under Hannibal's mouth, hips going taut before releasing into long desperate, pleasured bucking. He released into Hannibal's mouth, coming in long, hot ribbons of milky moisture that filled Hannibal's mouth with salty taste that he eagerly swallowed down and suckled for more.

He squeezed at the base of Will's cock, drawing the last of the release from him as Will relaxed against the pillows, panting in rapid, shallow heaves.

“Oh fuck ...” Will moaned, squirming away from Hannibal's mouth.

His cock was wilted and sensitive, completely drained. He whimpered as Hannibal drew back, releasing the flesh with a wet pop. His head fell back against the pillows, eyelids fluttering shut in drained relaxation.

Hannibal crawled up next to him, leaving a trail of kisses up his rib cage, chest, and shoulder, until he reached Will's perspiring neck.

“You've ruined me.” Will whispered, his voice hoarse and paper thin.

“Ruined?” Hannibal murmured, nuzzling beneath his earlobe, “I shouldn't say so ...”

“No?” Will asked, eyes fluttering open, “I'll never be the same again.”

“Change isn't necessarily a bad thing.” Hannibal replied, “Perhaps you've just become the person you were always meant to be. And that person is meant to be here with me, worshiping you in this moment.”

“You haven't found religion.” Will scoffed, smiling softly.

“I have.” Hannibal murmured, pressing a kiss against the corner of Will's mouth, “Just not in God.”

 

 


	6. Epilogue

A brisk wind sent ripples across the lake, which broke against the shore and the grass growing brittle and brown under the face of the coming winter. Their breath formed billows of steam through the air and swallowed in chilly breaths that froze throats and sinuses.

Will bent over the boat, gripping the starter with a gloved hand.

“This is my final attempt.” He remarked, glancing over his shoulder at Hannibal.

“It will start.” Hannibal encouraged, his smile half hidden by the scarf wrapped high around his neck.

Drawing in a deep breath, Will yanked back on the cord. The motor roared for a few moments before descending into a weak purr. Will pulled again, hard and quick. The engine bucked under his hand, stuttering for several moments before settling into a steady, vibrating whir.

“See?” Hannibal laughed at Will's startled expression.

“Hurry up, before it dies.” Will said, pushing the boat into the water.

He stepped into the small boat and balanced his weight on one of the small benches. He held out his hand for Hannibal to join him.

“What will we do should it die in the middle of the lake?” Hannibal asked.

Despite his misgivings, he took Will's hand and stepped carefully into the boat. The small vessel rocked under the disproportion of weight, and he quickly sank to his seat opposite Will, gripping at the sides of the boat.

“Paddle ashore with our hands, I guess.” Will chuckled.

He pushed them off the edge of the lake, and let the motor churn them out into the water. The motor was not strong enough to carry them very fast, but the boat sailed into the lake at a steady course.

“I'm proud of you, Will.” Hannibal said, casting a gaze across the lake, “You didn't give up.”

“I have you to thank for that.” Will replied.

They shared a brief smile over the subtle dig, content to let that subject heal in light of their fresh start, and settled into a comfortable silence.

Will hadn't given much thought to his sexuality since the morning he'd given up on fighting his desires. He'd realized he hadn't been hung up on sex with another man, so much as he'd been worried about falling for the man who had caused him quite a bit of pain and heart ache. He supposed life wasn't quite as linear as most people thought, but more fluid just like his sexuality. In time, he might be able to disassociate the negative images from Hannibal's face and replace them entirely with positive ones. The prospect didn't disgust or frighten him as it once might have so much as it freed him. Freed him ignore what any sane person would tell him – that he was in love with a monster, and it wasn't healthy. Will had never felt saner and perhaps that made the rest of the world crazy instead.

“For someone who so enjoys the finer things in life, the simplicity of sitting on the lake is surprisingly delightful.” Hannibal's remark drew Will from his pondering.

“It's peaceful, isn't it?” Will replied with a smile.

He scanned the glassy lake, cold and still under a crisp autumn sun, the distant gray peaks of pines, and the dark, low hanging clouds that heralded bad weather. The cold couldn't drive away the warmth the filled his chest as they shared this quiet, singular moment that could never again be recreated after the day's sun had sunk below the horizon.

“The world is so vast.” He murmured, “And for once, I don't feel the weight of it crushing down on me.”

“I'm pleased to hear that.” Hannibal said, reaching across the boat to lace his gloved fingers through Will's, “It's important to me that you feel safe here.”

“I feel secluded.” Will replied, turning his gaze back to Hannibal's face, “Hidden away here with you.”

“And this is a good feeling?”

“Yes.” Will said, squeezing Hannibal's fingers in his own, “Infinitely good.”

“I confess I feel the same.” Hannibal murmured, “The din is quiet, nothing to concern myself with, no patients who's problems I have to bear, no shadow behind me. It's as if time has slowed down, and I'm moving through water. Past and future are dim, no bearing on the present because the present is greater than what lies ahead or behind.”

“You could be content with this kind of rustic life?” Will asked.

“I will never desert my love for music or art, especially the opera, but some of the finer things in life are worth giving up for something that would outlast them by a century.” Hannibal replied.

His eyes opened fully to Will's, no shield or intent between Will's gaze and raw emotion. A smile touched his lips at Will's quiet shock, “Couldn't you be content?”

“Yes, of course, I mean ...” Will stammered, a smile growing on his face, “I mean, if we take in a few strays, it might be perfect.”

“If you insist.” Hannibal conceded, dipping his head.

“I do.” Will murmured.

He leaned froward, grasping Hannibal's cheeks between his gloved hands and crushing a kiss to his mouth. Their chilled lips joined, sharing the warmth of tongue and saliva between them, blowing out steaming breaths through their nostrils and into the air above their heads. Hannibal grabbed onto Will's waist, dragging Will from his seat and to his knees on the floor of the boat. The boat rocked unsteadily, but Will ignored the sway as he pressed himself into Hannibal's arms. The warm, sweet tasting caress of Hannibal's mouth held him captive.

Will drew back suddenly, ducking his head against the emotion that suddenly clutched his chest. He blinked hard, eyes hot against the cold air.

“What is it?” Hannibal asked, touching his chin.

“Nothing, I just ...” Will shook his head, “I'm just realizing … I've always loved you – or at least some part of me did; maybe the broken parts.”

Hannibal struggled to find a reply for a few moments before saying, “I could say the same thing.”

“No, you don't understand.” Will said, sniffing against the cold, “You couldn't – no one could unless they shared my empathy.”

He looked up to see Hannibal's questioning gaze and rushed to clarify, “I mean, I all my life I've struggled with my disorder and the places my mind can take me, how the lines between imagination and reality can blur. I'm always wondering, do I truly feel this way? Is someone else influencing my emotions? I could never be sure if I really owned my feelings and motivations, or if the voices in my mind belonged to someone else. Even if I tried not to be, I always always the reflection of the person in front of me. Mirror, mirror on the wall.” He gave a brief, rueful chuckle before quieting under Hannibal's penetrative gaze, “But you … you saw me. You cracked the glass, and you saw me. The real me. The one I didn't want to believe existed, but was always there, behind the reflection of the world.”

“I saw a kindred spirit.” Hannibal said, tilting his head and running the backs of his fingers along Will's cheek, “A soulmate.”

“You saw what no one else could.” Will murmured, “Maybe that's why I tried so hard to escape it.”

“We are all afraid of being naked and defenseless, of showing our flaws and weaknesses, especially to those whom we care about or respect immensely.” Hannibal said, “But loving another person is not necessarily about ignoring their flaws; it's about seeing them in their full, unadulterated ugliness and finding the beauty, the rose among the thorns – and I do love them, Will. Every single one.”

Will closed his eyes, turning his cheek into the caress of Hannibal's hand. His chest felt tight, his heart constricting, but it didn't hurt; there was an enduring warmth and flutter that signaled to him that this weakness, this vulnerability was a good thing – the best that could have happened to him.

Hannibal pressed another kiss against his mouth, sharing slow, lingering warmth between their chilled lips. Will uttered a quiet moan as Hannibal tongue began to lap against his, and he leaned into the embrace. It lasted much too briefly. When Hannibal drew back, Will dragged his gaze over his swollen lips, wet and pink with kisses and the scrape of Will's stubble. His eyes glowed with bright satisfaction and desire.

“I saw you.” He breathed, resting his forehead against Will's, “But, I never saw you coming.”

Will smiled, nuzzling his nose up against Hannibal's and offering his lips hungrily for another kiss. Hannibal stroked his thumb down Will's cheek and jaw, his eyes growing heavy with desire. He sealed his mouth against Will's again, imparting a long, hard kiss that drew in a quiet moan from Will's lips.

He broke their mouths apart again, breathing heavily into the cold air.

“Will, you're making me hard.” He moaned, softly.

Will lunged forward, goaded by fresh need and satisfaction. For a moment, he forgot where they were, and pushed himself toward Hannibal's lap and another open mouthed kiss. The consequences of his actions became quickly, abruptly clear as the boat tilted under the sudden shift of weight. Hannibal caught onto the sides of the boat, pushing it steady just before the side tilted down into the water.

Will scrambled back to his own seat, resetting the balance of the small boat.

“I'm proud of this accomplishment, Will, but I'd rather we didn't capsize. The weather is less than amiable.” Hannibal chided despite the smile tugging at his lips.

“We should get back inside, then.” Will suggested.

“Do you have something pressing?”

“I think you do.” Will said, nodding toward the lump pressing against Hannibal's slacks.

“Then I'm forced to agree.” Hannibal murmured, coyly.

The motor churned them to the other side of the lake, where Will caught on to the shore and pulled the boat up against the dirt and grass. He extended his hand and Hannibal stepped carefully from the boat.

“You'll forgive me if I don't ride it often.” He said, glancing distrustfully at the small vessel.

Will took his hand, “I've forgiven you for much worse. Come on.”

Hand in hand, they began the trek around the edge of the lake to the cabin, where warm blankets and candles awaited to thaw them.

The lake was quiet and still in there wake, hardly a breath of breeze. Overhead, the steel gray clouds parted briefly to show the face of the sun, shining robustly down on the secluded cabin. A rustle of feathers disturbed the treeline, and with a streak of colorful wings, a blue jay darted to the rim of the boat, where it settled with it's white breast proudly displayed and began to sing a merry tune.

 

~the end~

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to thank all the fantastic people over on Tumblr who write metas about Will's psyche because some of them have really helped me understand how he thinks, especially in this setting :)
> 
> Tumblr: [relentless-fire](http://clairehales.tumblr.com/)


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